Ignacio's Quest
by Paulsmum2001
Summary: A reforming despot, Alcalde Ignacio de Soto of Los Angeles, has lost his love, the beautiful Indian maid, Gushing Stream but on hearing strange news, he seeks to find her and protect her at all costs, regardless of her feelings for him.
1. The Letter

**Note: All rights to New World Zorro belong to the rightful owners. I make no money writing these stories, and I am grateful for the freedom to write about the characters I enjoy. I write for my own enjoyment.**

The Letter

"Gushing Stream! No!"

He woke in a sweat, screaming her name. Ignacio De Soto took several deep breaths before his heart felt like it would settle back into its usual rhythm. She needed him and he wasn't there.

Glancing around his room, he soon realised he had woken from a nightmare. She wasn't there, he remembered. She was gone. Nothing was going to bring her back to him.

He rose and went to the wash basin, and splashed cold water onto his face to wake himself up completely. He went to the jail to check the prisoners, as he usually did if he woke in the middle of the night, and watched the dirty men sleeping. They would hang in the morning. These lot were cold blooded murderers, hand delivered to the pueblo jail the previous day, by none other than their town hero, Zorro. He smiled. He liked the way they were teaming up these days. Common adventures seemed to build commardrie. The reward money would be going in the poor box, as was the new arrangement.

He went to his desk and unfolded the soft white letter and reread it thoughtfully. It had given him his latest nightmare, he was quite sure. There was something not right going on with his friend.

Arriving the previous morning, it had been a delight to touch the paper, and know that she had recently touched it. He had smelled it, hoping for just a trace of her familiar scent to have lingered. He imagined the scent of English lavender water – the perfume she favoured above all others.

Dearest Ignacio

I have received your latest letter and I am aware that feelings cannot always be denied. I believe that the intensity will lessen in time.

I am glad that the garrison seems to be improving in leaps and bounds. Tell Don Diego I will need his recipe for cactus tea, as a friend of mine is rather unwell. She is expecting a child, and not everything is as it should be. I hope there is something that can be done.

As always I long to hear more about the pueblo and the people that live there. I hope you are getting your strength back, and that your duties will become less burdensome in time.

Gretel.

Short and strangely worded, it mentioned things that did not sit right with him. In the cold light of a single candle, he scrutinised it carefully. She had not received his latest letters, he realised. She was referring to his original letter, written in the heat of despairing heartbreak. He had more control over his emotions now. He was back at his desk. He was back defending the people he was beginning to care for.

He had changed into his uniform to visit the jail, and wearing the red and blue jacket made him edgy. He fidgeted with his lapels for a while, and tried to get them to sit just right. He didn't know why it was important. He glanced at the clock on the mantel and realised it was a few hours before dawn.

He stood on the landing of his office, glancing out at the empty streets. A lone soldier patrolled the main street, walking backwards and forwards, hopefully keeping his eyes open for trouble. Ignacio wondered if Zorro was active tonight in and around the pueblo.

There wasn't much demand for him these days. Victoria was safely in residence at the hacienda, with twin boys to watch over, and although she often spoke of returning to her duties as the tavern keeper, practically speaking it was impossible at this time. Her duties as a mother prevented much activity outside the hacienda. Don Diego also was less active, as it took both of them working hard to keep the children safe. Diego had mentioned the necessity of new staff specifically to watch over the pair.

He wondered if his new friend would have time to scrutinise the letter with him. He would have to keep the situation serious and leave out the emotions that they both realised were never going to lessen. Any talk of pursuing the woman met with Diego's firm disapproval. He respected the man's opinion above all others, knowing most of his secrets these days. The pardon had put paid to any retribution, even if he had been so inclined.

If Gushing Stream was in trouble, would Diego know any more information than he did? Did he have her real address? Could they investigate together, and calm Ignacio's fears?

Something was wrong, he could feel it in his bones.

Gushing Stream, the lovely Indian woman, with the perfect English accent was so very stubborn. He still could not believe how he had been refused so easily. She had given him herself, in a few hours of intense passion, but she was determined to refuse his proposal of marriage. She felt him too good for her. She thought she would ruin him just because she was an Indian, and from servant stock. She was wrong.

She had changed his views on Indians – enough to imagine her being the perfect woman for him. Her English upbringing had changed her into something far removed from the traditional Indian, but everyone always saw the colour of her skin, and classed her as inferior. She was intelligent and strong, educated in the manner of an upper middle class European woman, but she was inferior – just because of the colour of her skin.

She belonged nowhere and to no one. No white person completely accepted the lady into their society, and no Indian would accept her anywhere near them. They probably considered her a traitor to her race, or some such foolishness. She had been stolen as a young child, and had no choice in who she became. She was resigned to it and had no hope of becoming anything more.

She was a princess in his eyes. With her deep brown eyes, her soft reddish brown skin, and her long flowing hair, she was beautiful. Her beauty was extraordinary on the outside, and her inner beauty shone as she helped anyone around her that needed it. Her heart was full of compassion and mercy, but stubbornness and anger dwelt there too.

She had been too scarred and too damaged to imagine being anyone's wife, let alone a man she had quickly made into her hero. He was a diamond in the rough to her, and it always would amaze him that she trusted him so completely to become someone great. After all his years of trouble making, he had friends who had begun to trust him to do what was right. How had he been so lucky? How could his luck have changed so dramatically?

Ignacio stared into space. How on earth was he to reach her? He had no real address to contact her. She may be living in Monterey, but then again she may not be. With the delay with the letters, she may have even returned to Spain.

The thought sent an empty feeling through him. He went to the garrison stables and mounted his horse. He would take the issue up with Diego. He would state his concerns to the man plainly and unemotionally. Diego would hardly take him seriously if emotions came into it. If not he would take it to Padre Benitez. The church man had become his surrogate father these days, and he respected him as such.

He would ride to the river and back, just to stretch his horse and to remember the times that they had spent together. He usually did that when he couldn't sleep. His horse knew the way well enough, and the grass was green and the water fresh. His horse would relax and so would he.

Then he would deal with the letter properly. Even if it meant travelling to Spain.


	2. Ignacio's Mask

Ignacio's Mask

Ignacio waited until the sun rose, before he stirred from his seat on the soft grass. He had watched his horse crop the grass for a while, dozing on and off as he waited for the day to arrive.

He mounted his horse, and turned the animal towards the de la Vega hacienda. He saw a lone horseman already riding out, and recognised him quickly as Diego.

"Ignacio," Diego said, a little surprised. "You couldn't sleep either?"

"The babies are unsettled?"

"The nursery maid will arrive sometime today. If we are lucky. The boys already have a bad reputation among the locals. No one applied," Diego said with a weary smile. "They are not the easiest little men."

"I wonder why," Ignacio said, with a smile.

"Nightmares again?"

Ignacio watched him guide his horse smoothly, to join him. He was a little annoyed that some of his secrets were shared with the man. He had discovered his true nature, and Diego had discovered his.

"She is in trouble," he murmured, passing the other man the letter.

Diego read it, and re read it, shaking his head a little. "I don't see it myself," he murmured.

"Think about her other letters. You write letters all the time and you receive them as well. What does she mean about the cactus tea? Would it help with a troublesome pregnancy?"

"It's a tonic, it helps generally. Strengthens and sedates basically." Diego read the letter again, and sighed. "Her friend may be in trouble, but there is no sign that she is."

Ignacio wondered for a moment. They had lain together, and that could lead to problems… Pregnancy related problems? He paled, and grabbed at Diego.

"Would she say her friend was in trouble, when she meant herself?"

"Why? She's not married," Diego murmured. He suddenly met Ignacio's eyes, and frowned. "Those accusations mentioned in the first letter? Ignacio, surely you didn't?"

"If she meant herself, then I am the father, Diego. Surely, somehow…you could help me," Ignacio said softly. "Diego?"

"I could ask around. Armand is in close communication with me. I could write to him, and ask about Gushing Stream's health…"

"What if she has told no one? What if she is alone and friendless? Diego…"

"Calm down. She may be perfectly fine."

"What if she isn't?" Ignacio said. His mount fussed under him as he struggled to regain his composure. "It's not knowing that is driving me mad, Diego. If I knew for sure she was alright. If I knew for sure she wasn't pregnant…"

If only he knew where she was. He wouldn't bother her; he just wanted to know she was alright. If she was pregnant with his child, then he wanted to know. Even then he wouldn't interfere with her and the child unless he was needed. He could even pretend to be unaware. She wouldn't have to know. He could sponsor them anonymously to make sure they lived well and happy.

He smiled a little. If she was pregnant with his child, then she would have her baby to hold. She would have someone to love and to love her. She would be happy.

"What could be wrong with her pregnancy?"

"We don't even know if she is pregnant, Ignacio. Pregnancy is not my sphere of interest, although it is an amazing subject. I am more interested in the prevention of pain in childbirth, especially where my wife is concerned."

"Well, she needs the tea, she says so. You may be allowed to visit her, Diego. You must try to arrange it," Ignacio urged him. "Please. If it were you, you would have to know."

Diego hesitated, and slowly nodded. "I will write to Armand immediately, and tell him about the contents of the letter. Perhaps Gushing Stream will allow me to visit." He glanced at him. "She will not be happy or comfortable with your involvement. If she is pregnant, she probably needs to remain calm and relaxed, especially if there is some complication of some sort."

"I know. I can't ever see her again. She said that in her first letter. Diego," Ignacio sighed. "I trust that you will help her. I can wait for you to deal with it. She trusts you and the tea. Help her."

"Or her friend…Ignacio?"

"Yes?"

"You cannot live like this. You need another interest. You need to court someone else," he murmured thoughtfully.

Ignacio shuddered a little. He shook his head slowly. "I can't. I dream of her every night. Most of the time it is good, sometimes it is devastating. I am too late, not fast enough. I am not there when she needs me. Please, Diego. She needs me now, somehow I just know it. Please, go and give her the tea."

The Alcalde paused, and sighed again. "As for another lady, no one would have me. I am not too good for them. I am not good enough. My heart is cold, unfeeling. I can't court anyone else."

"Marry for money then. Find someone, anyone."

"Goodness, Diego. You waited until you had your love in your arms," Ignacio said sharply.

"As you recall, it was not of my choosing. It was my father who arranged the marriage."

"You'd still be single, if your father hadn't discovered your secret?" Diego nodded. "Then leave me alone then. I am in love. Surely you know how it feels?"

"I understand the idea of being separated better than most."

"At least you got to see her every day. Zorro got to hold her in his arms, and kiss her. I am bereft."

"She had no idea who I was."

Ignacio bit his lip and thought. "Well then, perhaps I need a mask too, then."

"What are you saying?"

"A mask. Not a physical mask, but a mask of a different sort. If she doesn't recognise me, she can't get upset when I visit her," Ignacio said, as the men turned their horses onto the main road to the pueblo.

Diego shook his head. Ignacio often went into wild tangents planning how to woo back his lost love.

A mask? Surely that was what was needed. Diego was better than anyone for disguise and subterfuge.

"Diego, please."

"I don't think a glued on beard will trick anyone this time," Diego said with a soft chuckle. "Besides you already have a beard."

"I'll shave it off," Ignacio said with decision. "I'll be a beardless boy."

"Beardless boy? I think you are a little old for that disguise." Ignacio noticed that Diego was starting to consider the idea. "There are dyes that can dramatically change hair colour. There are stage effects that could assist with a disguise."

"I was an actor before, Diego."

"You'd have to be a good one, Ignacio. Gushing Stream is not a stupid woman."

"Unlike Victoria?"

Diego turned sharply in the saddle, and had automatically raised a hand to strike him, before he collected himself.

"Ignacio," Diego snarled, trying to control his anger. "Please don't refer to my wife in that manner."

"I'm sorry."

"Victoria had been swept off her feet by a hero beyond imagination. It tends to cloud feminine judgement."

Ignacio was wisely silent. Diego stared ahead and concentrated on his breathing. After a few moments, he was calm again.

"Everyone was stupid as far as Zorro was concerned. Most still are," Ignacio said softly.

"We may be able to arrange something, Ignacio. An eye patch, for instance, makes people uncomfortable, and unlikely to closely scrutinise faces. With the right dye we could colour your beard and hair orange or deep brown, and perhaps we could shave the beard off. You would have to act differently to your usual personality, or she would guess you a mile off."

"You will help me?"

"It certainly looks like it. We will have to arrange the garrison to be well protected."

"The lancers are getting better every day. Your training is doing wonders, Zorro."

He gave him a two fingered wave, and he smiled.

"Teach me how you swop over from one personality to another," Ignacio said softly.

"You will have to be more like Diego than De Soto, Ignacio. Bookish and boring to the ladies. Remember there is to be no wooing whatsoever or I will tell her outright who you are, and let the cards fall where they fall."

Ignacio nodded. "And I will have to scout out the territory first. We have to work out where she is, and how much help she needs," Diego said calmly.


	3. Ignacio's Impatience

Ignacio's Impatience

Zorro walked through to Ignacio's office after the weekly training session, and grinned a little at Ignacio.

"I must admit, they are getting better these days. I am finally getting a little sweaty. Several privates may grow to be very promising…"

"Are you still trying to make the sergeant a swordsman, Zorro?"

"He has style." Zorro laughed a little. "He has spirit. If he lost a bit of weight, the man may actually gain a few skills."

"Does he even have any promise?"

"He's a friend. Do you know how many times he saved my life? More than once, you would have shot me at close range, but he prevented it. He is a brave man, for all his bumbling ways - a credit to Los Angeles. He wants to be a swordsman. I can humour the man."

"Yes."

Ignacio moved restlessly in his office. "Diego, I am leaving Los Angeles. Tomorrow. I am going to visit Armand and Marcela. It has been a while since I've seen them. I can do some banking while I am in Monterey. I can keep my eyes open for Gushing Stream."

"I am waiting until the time is safest," Zorro said softly.

"You do that. Zorro is a much better protector than I am. I can't wait anymore."

Zorro was silent. He nodded.

"Don't do anything foolish, Ignacio."

"Zorro. My life has been a foolish mess since the day I was born," Ignacio said softly. "How can I not do something foolish…?"

Zzzz

Ignacio left Mendoza as acting Alcalde for the few days he hoped to be away. Zorro had the man's back, as he always had in the past, and Ignacio was confident that the pueblo was safe in their hands for the time being. He felt like a mother hen, finally worrying about the people he should have worried about since becoming the Alcalde in the first place.

He took an unknown horse, so that Gushing Stream would not be frightened away from him if she saw him in the street. Diego helped him rub ash through his hair and beard to make it greyer, and at Diego's insistence, he attached an eye patch over his left eye. He removed it almost immediately.

"Alcalde, the eye patch will take practice," Diego said with a sigh. "I'm really not sure about this at all, Ignacio."

"I have to do this, Diego. I have to," he replied softly.

"I doubt this will work. You can't even keep it straight in your head, can you?"

"Diego, I will do whatever it takes to see her."

"It doesn't sound very promising, Alcalde. You should develop a limp and use a stick too," Diego said with a sigh.

Zzz

Ignacio ended up buying a complete set of clothes from a small business owner as he came across the man on the way to church. He gave him money, and swopped clothes with the bewildered man, going behind a bush to change. The other man stared in wonder at both the money and the fine clothes that he had just been handed. He shrugged and enjoyed the feel of fine cotton, instead of scratchy second rate material against his skin. The money was twice the amount the clothes were actually worth, and as he played with the coins in his hand, he decided not to question or comment and just accept it as a gift from God.

Ignacio was having the opposite problem. The clothes were faintly familiar, especially their discomfort level. He was a man used to fine clothes, and the best that he could afford was quite good. The poor quality of material was fine enough for a small business owner of moderate means, but it was scratchy, tattered, and was wearing very thin in some places. He resisted the urge to tidy himself in any way, or to wriggle in the unfamiliar clothes, and tried not to draw attention to himself as he made his way into the bustling city of Monterey.

He sniffed at his sleeve. It hadn't been cleaned for a long time, and the man he had bought it off probably hadn't cleaned it. He only wore it on Sundays probably and removed it straight after church. He probably didn't realise it smelt of fish and onions, since everything in his environment smelt the same. He sighed. He could remember that smell from his childhood, as he had sat and complained and wished for more from life. His father had hated the complaining, and had punished him whenever he heard the whining. His mother had urged him to keep trying and never accepting second best of himself. She had urged him to do better, even as a small child. He had just forgotten her soft voice and her encouraging words.

The clothes were perfect for searching for Gushing Stream. She could hardly recognise him in the rags he was wearing, if he did manage to bump into her. In such a large place, where would he start looking?

It was Sunday. Most people would be going to church. Gushing Stream definitely would go to a church. The problem was which church? There were several in Monterey.

He picked the church closest to where Armand and Marcela lived. It would probably the church she was used to, one that she had accompanied Marcela to in happier times.

He entered the large, imposing church and sat on a pew towards the back, where the poorest of the poor sat to listen to the sermons read out in Latin. He liked the fact that in their church in Los Angeles, the sermons were in everyday language so the people could at least understand what was being said. He had enjoyed some of Padre Benitez sermons in the past, and that was the only reason he went every Sunday, especially after Gushing Stream left town.

He tried to look as downtrodden as he could. He hoped he would be invisible to the rest of the congregation in the church. If he stood out, she might recognise him and run away again. Invisibility had always been a bad feeling in the past, when he had been young and idealistic. He had assumed God had no interest in how rich or powerful you were, only if your heart was pure. Rich and powerful people protected and paid for the church, and it was an importance for the church body. He had wanted to be accepted, and cared for, as he had read in the bible and expected. He had been lectured about having wrong expectations, and that he should stay away from things he did not understand. He had been reminded not to concern himself with the bible and its mysteries. So he had.

He had hated to feel invisible, and he had whined and complained about it. His father took exception as he always did, and he had earned himself a slap for insolence and complaining about his lot. Now he hoped he could still imagine a bit of invisibility, as he noticed Armand and his sister enter the church, from the much more ornate doors near the front. He glanced at the floor, as Marcela scanned the crowd as if looking for someone, hiding his distinctive blue eyes.

He hoped he hadn't completely forgotten to behave like a peon. It was going to come in handy right now, if anyone else entered that might recognise him.

There was a soft, hesitant movement near him and he realised it was her. Gushing Stream was almost touching him, and she wanted him to move over slightly to let her sit on the pew with him. She was dressed in similar quality clothes, with a shawl over her head as custom dictated. Her clothes were deep black cotton, and she was obviously dressed as a widow.

He moved slightly over, giving her just enough room to sit. Her skirts brushed against his trousers, but it was no matter for either of them. She thanked in her perfect English accent.

Her voice was weaker than he remembered, and she seemed to shiver a little. A widow was allowed to be pregnant, although it was still frowned upon a little. He wondered how he would be able to tell.

She was paler than he remembered, almost white skinned instead of the reddish brown tinge.

"Senora?" He said, keeping his voice husky. "Are you quite well?"

She turned to look at him, and he was grateful that the ashes covered his skin and hair. No recognition appeared in her eyes.

Her smile was worth more than emeralds, almost taking his breath away. Her face was painfully thin, he realised with a touch of horror.

"I am quite alright, Senor," she murmured in perfect upper class Spanish, responding to his slip into his native tongue.

He watched her turn her face to watch the altar and listen to the liturgies read out in Latin. She bowed her head to pray, but he didn't. He took the opportunity to glance down at her abdomen. Was it swollen in any way? He couldn't be sure.

When she rose to her feet, he noticed the weariness in her whole body. Her hands rested on the back of the pew in front of her as if to steady her shaky balance.

She sighed and closed her eyes. Ignacio reacted almost immediately with a hand already heading to her waist as she sunk down into a faint. He caught her properly within seconds, with a fluid movement, and placed her on her pew, resting her head on his lap.

Someone turned to look at them, shushing them for noise, and he shrugged. He would be glad to get back to his own pueblo where people actually cared about one another. He stroked her hair from her face. It was no longer silky or soft to his touch. Her hands were cold and thin and her arms were bony. He rested a gentle hand on her abdomen. It was the only part of her that wasn't painfully thin.

He knew now, without a doubt. She was carrying his child. Somehow it was killing her.

She stirred and he moved the hand, pretending it had never been on her stomach area.

"Where am I?" She murmured. He resisted the urge to reassure her that he was there and that she would be fine. That she would never lose him. She glanced around slowly. "Oh, yes. Church."

"When was the last time you ate, Senora?" He asked softly.

"I help with the soup kitchen…" She said.

"When was the last time you ate?" He repeated. He knew others in need always came before herself. She shrugged and he glanced at the crowd of people leaving church.

"You are a poor widow, Senora. Where do you eat? Where do you sleep?" He had a feeling it wasn't anywhere safe or warm. He glanced around the church building, taking in its coldness and its finery. Already a warmly dressed priest was coming over to see them on their way.

"There is a workhouse. I don't want to go there. They will take my child. I have no money, no husband…" She glanced up at his eyes. "I will die before I go there. My child will die with me." Her words were so determined; Ignacio felt his blood freeze for a moment. His beloved was already half way there, he realised. She had given up hope. She would not survive if he did nothing.


	4. Ignacio's Reaction

Ignacio's Reaction

"You are coming with me, Senora," Ignacio said with firmness. He was acting impulsively, she had no idea who he was, and what she meant to him. "You need to be warm and well fed…for the child's sake."

"You are kind," she murmured. No light came into her eyes. They were still cold and stony, and disinterested. Her manners were impeccable as always, but there was no meaning to the words. She was resigned to her fate, and his actions would just prolong a life that was painful. He had to make her see there was hope. She was giving up, and without him being there she would have soon laid down and died in some alley or laneway, and no one would have cared. He wouldn't allow it. He had to do something.

He helped her to her feet and made her lean on him for balance. Her steps were tiny and faltering, and she looked as if she would collapse at any moment. Her whole body trembled in his arms. He helped her walk out the nearest door of the church and onto the street outside.

The effort of moving exhausted her and when she fainted again, he lifted her tiny frame into his arms and carried her. He wasn't sure where he was going, he just needed to find somewhere warm.

He found himself at Armand's mansion and knocked on the front door of the stylish hacienda. The butler who opened the door frowned at him. The man was perfectly dressed for his class, and haughty in the extreme. He looked down his nose at Ignacio, and made him simmer with growing impatience and blossoming rage.

"Senor, we have no interest in either you or your baggage…"

"Tell the Colonel that Alcalde Ignacio De Soto is here, and be quick about it!" The butler paled and obeyed quickly, rushing back inside the hacienda, leaving the door wide open. Ignacio stepped over the threshold, and stood in the tiled foyer, waiting for something to happen.

The butler didn't return, but soon Armand was there in person, staring hard at him. The Colonel stared at his face, and then down at his clothes. Thank goodness I never wore the eye patch, Ignacio thought. Diego was sometimes a little too melodramatic for his taste. Armand sniffed at him a little, and wrinkled his nose.

"Ignacio?"

"Don't just stare at us, Armand," Ignacio said with annoyance. "Help me. She may be just a skeleton, but she's still awkward." He shifted her in his arms for emphasis. Her hands had reached up and were clutching his shirt and her face burrowed against his heart. Gushing Stream must know deep down it was him, he realised. She trusted him to help her, even though she didn't realise who he was.

The servants were too busy staring at them to be of any use, so Armand quickly took charge of the situation. He led Ignacio to a comfortable guest room and ordered a servant to fetch hot bath water and a doctor. His orders were obeyed immediately, to Ignacio's relief.

"Who is she?" Armand asked. Ignacio shook his head at wonder. How thin she was – her own employer couldn't even recognise her, and he had lived in the same house for months. If he hadn't loved her so much, he probably wouldn't have believed it was her either.

"It's Gushing Stream," Ignacio murmured. He laid the woman he loved on the soft white sheets, and pulled the warm blanket up over her. He placed a hand on hers as she stirred and fussed, and she held it. He pulled a nearby chair up and sat on it, so that he could rest. Carrying her had been easy enough, but he was exhausted.

Armand stared at the gaunt woman with shock. He blinked a few times as if to make sure he was seeing properly.

"Why didn't she come to me, and get help?" Armand said. Ignacio remembered the harshness of the butler, and thought he might know why. The servants sometimes had higher morals than their employers. They probably would have judged her as a fornicator or something, Ignacio thought.

"I would have helped her….She's pregnant?"

Ignacio stared at her. "Yes," he said. "She is pregnant - with my child."

Armand turned abruptly, and Ignacio wondered if the Colonel was about to strike him hard across the face. The military commander drew in his breath was a startled hiss, and clenched his fists tightly. Ignacio sat strong and tall, and braced himself, stiffening his back for a blow. It wasn't as if he didn't deserve it. The Colonel unclenched his hands, and stared at his brother-in-law.

"You knew better," he growled. "Ignacio, how could you use her so disgracefully? How could you abandon her to this fate?"

Ignacio knew he had no excuse. He had desired her so intensely that he'd had no thought to any consequences of his actions. He had wanted to hold her more than anything in the world, and he would never regret that morning. It was a once in a lifetime opportunity for them to enjoy each other, and the memory would always be with him.

He had not abandoned her. He would never have abandoned her completely to her fate, even if she had wanted him to. He would have provided money, if he had known she needed it. If she had told him of her pregnancy, he would have fully supported her.

"She ran from me," he said thoughtfully. "I had no idea of this, until Monday," he added, gesturing to the woman in the bed. "I thought perhaps she had some money…"

They both stared at the woman in the bed, wondering for a moment if she was still breathing. They both caught the slight rise and fall of the blankets, and heard a tiny sigh, and were satisfied that she was still alive.

"I can't lose her, Armand. I love her. She is dying of starvation in what I thought was a city of Christian people…"

"There is always the workhouse," Armand murmured, reluctantly. Ignacio chose to ignore his comment. "Women find help there."

"She should have come home to me," Ignacio said. Maybe she didn't have the means to pay for transport. Maybe she just had too much pride in her stubborn heart to ask for help when she needed it. He brushed a strand of brittle, lack lustre hair from her face, and kissed her gently on her forehead.

"You should have come home to me, Gushing Stream. My arms are always waiting for you. I love you," he whispered. Taking the hand he was already holding, he begun to rub it gently, trying to get the circulation moving a little quicker. She should not have been so cold, so icy.

The bath water arrived, and Armand cleared his throat to remind Ignacio that he was still in the room.

"That, my friend, is for you. Get washed, and get that muck and grime off you before Marcela sees her brother dressed so strangely. You can borrow one of my suits, and we can throw those rags away, until we can locate your clothes. Did you ride over?" Ignacio shook his head.

"Well, someone will find the horse wherever you left it. Relax for a few moments."

Steam was rising from the bath tub and Ignacio watched it eddy and spin above the bath. It was definitely inviting.

"Thank you Armand. I appreciate all your help."

"It's only hot water," the Colonel said with a twinkle in his eyes. "The least I can do."


	5. Introducing Sarah Tomas Miguel Sanchez

Introducing "Sarah Tomas" and "Miguel Sanchez"

Ignacio de Soto dressed in a comfortable suit, after his warm bath. Well groomed and feeling more himself, he returned to Gushing Stream's side, hesitating with a servant outside her door. He hoped his letter to Diego would bring the man quickly. His legendary cactus tea would be needed.

She lay so silently covered in the blankets, that he reached for her hand, and held it. He rested on the chair by the bed, and eased his hand a little further up to her wrist. The tiny throbbing sensation was a comfort and a source of dread. She was holding on, just.

He squeezed her hand gently, aware of bones and fragile skin. She stirred a little, and the movement made his heart race.

"Where…where," she murmured.

"You are safe. It is all that matters," he said softly. If she recognised him now without his disguise so be it. It would not be comfortable for either of them, but the truth was probably better in the open. She didn't have the strength to run, and he could easily hold her still, if she wanted to try.

"Are you warm enough?"

"Who…? Oh, the senor from church," she said softly. "This is your home?"

"My friend's hacienda. It is warm and safe, and soon I want you to eat some soup," he said. She was staring at the ceiling, as if trying to place his voice. He had modified his voice slightly, it was the husky version from the church, and he was speaking Spanish, not the English that was sweeping through the territory like a wildfire. Los Angeles citizens were beginning to prefer to speak English to communicate better with the surrounding territories. He had always spoken in English to her before. It was sometimes good to have two languages.

She was shaking her head. "I'm not hungry…"

"Nevertheless," he said firmly. "You will eat some."

She was quiet, and he thought she had gradually had drifted off to sleep again.

"You want to help me?"

"Yes."

He watched her face as she frowned. "Is that so strange?"

"Yes," she breathed. He frowned then, and tried to think of some response.

"Only a few people have ever wanted to help me," she murmured. Her hand moved under the blankets, and he realised she was feeling her stomach, probably hoping her child was alright inside her tortured body. She cared for the baby inside her more than her own life. That would be the key to help her, he suddenly realised. "There was a man…"

"Yes?" He was startled a little. He had been deep in thought. "A man?"

She wasn't frowning now; she had a slight smile on her face. "He saved me. I saved him. We could have saved each other…you know, properly."

"No, what do you mean?" He was confused. She didn't seem to be making much sense.

"He was a good man. We did something…something we shouldn't have done. I am being punished for that now, but it was worth it. His touch was like magic, so soft, so warm…"

Ignacio was intrigued. She seemed to be talking about him. She was slightly delirious, because he couldn't imagine any woman talking about such things, with a strange man especially.

"Who was he?" He asked.

"The Alcalde of Los Angeles. He is an important man, a great man."

"Alcaldes are," he murmured. "Alcalde de Soto?"

"You know him?"

"I have heard of him, senora. His reputation precedes him. He is not a good man," Ignacio said softly. "He is cold, heartless and cruel. If he did this to you, you were badly used. What did he do? Abandon you once he knew you were pregnant?"

She took a shaky breath, and he felt as though he had slapped her in the face. He regretted the harsh tone to his voice. He hadn't meant to speak so roughly to her.

"He is not like that. I am the cruel one," she whispered. "I seduced him…I caused this child…He has no idea. He will never know. He needs to help those people in Los Angeles – those he has hurt in the past, they need his goodness now. He is trying so hard to make a difference. I would only distract him, and cause him disgrace."

Ignacio rose from the chair, and crossed over to the window.

"I am a heartless woman," she whispered. "He says he loves me. He asked me to marry him. He doesn't care who I am – but I care. I am cold, unfeeling. I need to be. That is the only way I survive. I cannot accept his help and destroy his world."

Ignacio stared down at the tree lined street below. He had no words but he wanted to refute every horrible thing she said about herself. None of it was true. His arguments would be useless, and she was barely conscious as it was. When she realised who he was, he would speak his mind then.

"It takes two people to create a new life," he whispered. He wondered if she could hear him from the bed.

"I would like to look after you, senora." His words came unbidden to him. "I am not this paragon that you speak of, this perfect man. But I want to help you."

"How?" She whispered, turning her head to look at him. He was glad he wasn't in his uniform, because even as ill as she was, she would have reacted to it. She seemed a little curious.

"Soup," he said, coming back towards the bed. "Soup, as much as you can eat." He smiled. "We'll have soup, and then worry about what comes next."

"You don't even know my name, senor," she whispered.

"Well, what is your name?" He said softly. "My name is Miguel Sanchez," he added, hoping that the name Diego had picked out suited him. "I am an officer in the Spanish military, as is my friend." Honesty felt better than the bookish buffoon Diego would have had him be. He didn't have to admit to his real title and occupation. "Semi-retired," he added as an afterthought.

"Senor Sanchez," she said, savouring the name and gazing at him as if seeing more to him than he wished her to see. She was ill, and her judgment was sketchy, thank goodness. She was so smart normally.

"My name is…" He saw her eyes flicker with indecision. "My name is Sarah. Sarah Tomas," she said, and the lie made him wonder if she was pretending to believe his own lie.

"It is an honour to meet you, Senora Tomas," he murmured, as he lifted a small hand to his lips. He allowed himself a tiny kiss, and held it a little longer than he should have. She withdrew it with a small uncomfortable smile.

She was not aware of his identity yet, but when she recovered a little more, she would soon see through him. He needed Diego with his dyes and eye patches after all. He wanted to spend enough time near her to make sure she recovered, and that the child lived. He would give anything in the world for her to be with him as his wife. They could raise the child together, as nature intended.


	6. Soup and Solace

Soup and "Solace"

Ignacio had a bowl of soup ready when her eyes flickered open again. He helped her sit up a little, aware that her whole body could break at a rough touch. He gently placed the spoon of chicken broth at her lips to moisten them a little. She pursed her lips in and out, tasting the liquid carefully.

"It's good. Chicken broth," he murmured, trying a smile. "Try a little, just a little," he urged, and eased some of the soup into her mouth. Muscles moved slowly in her throat as she swallowed a tiny amount, and turned her head. "Please, just a little more."

"It hurts to swallow," she said softly. "I can't."

"Just a little more," he insisted, and she sighed. She allowed him to repeat the process and she swallowed reluctantly.

"No, Miguel. Please…"

Ignacio sighed, and placed the spoon back in the bowl. Two mouthfuls was nowhere near enough nourishment for her. He could barely contain his impatience with Diego's delayed arrival, but he was probably only just getting his letter now. They needed the cactus tea. It would soothe her throat, and get her sleeping properly again. There was nourishment in the disgustingly flavoured gunk, somehow, even if it was just the water.

"Think of the baby," he tried gently. "It needs you to be strong. If you die, so does the baby."

"That's right," she murmured. "That's as it should be."

"No," he said suddenly. "You don't say that – not in that way. You will eat some more, and you will try." He rose from the chair, and turned away, slamming the bowl down on the nightstand. Didn't she understand that she had to try? It would all be for nothing if she didn't try. He crossed over to the door.

"Miguel," she murmured. He was about to leave the room, and yell and scream at someone to relieve some of the pent up frustration, but he paused. "I'm sorry."

He sighed, and relaxed tense shoulders. "I'm sorry too," he said half to himself, as he left the room.

Zzzz

Armand was nearby, coming out of the nursery just down the hall, after visiting his three month old daughter. Ignacio had closed the door softly, and was leaning on it, with his hand on the door knob. Ignacio was wondering if he should go back into the room, and try again. He had lost his temper with her acceptance of death, her lack of a will to live, but she needed him to keep making her try.

"Ignacio?" Armand said, trying to catch his attention.

"Armand…has Marcela ever been ill, really ill?" The words were soft and thoughtful, and Ignacio was glancing at the floor. Armand could barely hear his voice.

"No, she's very healthy, thank goodness," Armand said softly. He touched his brother-in-law's arm, trying to get his attention, trying to make him look at him. Ignacio edged away from him. Armand sighed.

"Come downstairs and let the lady rest, Ignacio," Armand suggested. "A few moments won't make any difference. Eat lunch with us."

Ignacio cast a pained glance at the closed door, and sighed. He followed his brother-in-law downstairs to the dining room.

Marcela stood to greet him with a rather sedate hug, as he reached the dining table. He seated her carefully, pushing her chair in towards the table, as was expected of him. He took his seat next to his sister.

A bowl of soup sat in front of him. It was a hearty garlic soup with bread, and he smiled at his hosts.

He tasted it, carefully. It was well made, but his stomach protested strangely. He listened without hearing to Marcela as she described the balls she had participated in within the last month, and joys of motherhood and of recent dress purchases. Her voice was soothing in itself, and he forced himself to eat some more soup. He had no interest in his sister's choice of topics, and he realised she knew that already. He barely noticed his surroundings - his mind was with his beloved.

Armand said something he didn't catch, and he nodded. Nodding did the trick most of the time - and pleased most people, and would allow the numbness to continue. His brother-in-law, however, frowned and repeated what he said.

"What was that, Armand?" He forced himself to ask, glancing toward the Colonel, seated at the head of the table.

"How are you feeling? You look exhausted, Ignacio." Armand was frowning, saying the same thing three times obviously annoyed him. Marcela was watching him carefully too. She reluctantly ate some soup, trying to force herself to act naturally.

"Oh," Ignacio said. He shrugged, as he pulled some of his bread apart, and placed a piece in his mouth. He forced himself to chew it, swallowing was awkward.

"You need to rest, Ignacio," Marcela said gently. "We are worried about you."

Armand opened his mouth, and began to say something. He felt better of it and closed it again, sipping his wine to cover his slight embarrassment. He shook his head at himself and sighed. Marcela frowned at her husband. Ignacio had watched him closely from his seat, and felt the growing irritation. Friends were becoming strangely uncomfortable to be around.

"What were you going to say, Armand?" Ignacio said, keeping his voice even and soft.

Armand shook his head at his brother-in-law. "It's not important, Ignacio."

"What were you going to say?" Ignacio's voice was more insistent, and he felt anger rise within him.

Marcela stood up quickly, with a rustle of silk skirts, and looked at her husband and back at her brother. "Please, we don't need to discuss hard things right now. Leave it alone, Ignacio." She reached out and touched her brother's arm. "Armand, please. Not now."

Ignacio stared hard at his host, and Armand shrugged. Whatever the man was going to say, he needed to say it, Ignacio thought. Even if the words would cut into him like knives. He had an idea of what he would say already, he had given enough clues to the difficult nature of the topic.

"She is dying, Ignacio. You need to face it. You know what death looks like. You are a soldier," Armand said, ignoring his wife's pleading eyes. "Be a man, and face it."

"She is alive, and she is staying that way," Ignacio said, standing and throwing his napkin on the table next to his bowl. "I'm sorry Marcela. I am not hungry. Excuse me."

He ran lightly back up the stairs, heading towards the guest room. She would eat some more soup. He would beg her to. He would admit his identity and demand it. She would live. He had been drawn back to the living by her hand, and he would drag her back to him. He could not listen to the Colonel, or his own reason. He would ignore the fact that her lips were blue and her eyes were sunken, and the fact that he had seen others die in similar ways. Others survived despite those symptoms, and so would she.

Memories of hard times in Cadiz tried to intrude, of childhood friends dying slowly of famine related illnesses, and he pushed them away. He himself had survived those times. It was not Cadiz and it was not a famine. He would save her. He had to.


	7. Hope Rekindled

Hope Rekindled

Ignacio sat watching her sleep as the day slowly became night. She was sleeping deeper than she had been. He held her hand gently in his, and turned to watch the stars come out in the darkening sky.

He had gone up the stairs so quickly he had rested at the doorway of her room, needing to catch his breath. Opening the door, he wondered if she had died while he was away. If she had he would never forgive himself for leaving in such a temper. She stirred at his entrance, rolling onto her side, as if wanting to see out the window. He approached the bed, but she was asleep. He tucked stray limp strands of dark hair out of her face, and watched her chest rise and fall, before easing the blankets up a little higher.

He remembered how she had sat by his bed for a week before he had opened his eyes to stare at her sweet face. Did he even have a week? He sighed, and placed his head in his hands for a moment. He was tired. He felt exhausted. She had been there, stroking his head, and chatting non-stop as he lay there. He smiled at the memory. He had never heard her talk so much.

"Well, my love," he murmured. "You talked to me. I suppose, if I follow your example, I should do the same."

He walked to the window. "It's getting darker now, and the stars are coming out. People are packing up their wares in Monterey and going home to wherever it is that they live. I can't see them, or hear them, but all the same they are there. My parents started that way. Market holders who got lucky, and then unlucky in the markets of the city of Cadiz. They were happy once…"

He turned towards her.

"I am not a paragon, I am not perfect. I am a beast. A wicked, horrible man. You don't know me as well as you need to. I have threatened children to catch a great hero. I have flogged people, completely innocent people to lure out Zorro. I have stolen, and cheated and tried my damn hardest to rise to the top of the pile. I am swayed by the powerful and the corrupt. I stand by and let widows and children suffer, when I knew what they needed. Everything has been in vain, every time I strived for greatness, I fell down. I frightened the right Alcalde out of the job. I have jailed poor people for criticising me in public. I have jailed the editor of the pueblo's newspaper to try and prevent the truth from coming to light."

He took a deep breath.

"I do not deserve you. When I offered marriage I was consumed with lust. Love was like a rosebud in my heart, and not in full bloom. I didn't know how love felt until now. I am not too good for you. My sweet love, you are too good for me."

He sat back on the chair.

"I'm raving," he murmured. "Raving mad. You can't hear me, and this is madness. I am going mad with this pain." He grasped her hand, and lifted it gently to his lips. "All I know is that I love you. I would do whatever it takes to make you live. I will force that stuff down your throat if I have to… No, no I wouldn't. I can't hurt you. Gushing Stream, I am here and I love you. I will stay right here until you breathe your last, and I will beg and plead and pray that you will eat and grow strong again. Despite the odds, you and I are going to beat this – together."

He watched her face until the night made the room dark, and the air cold. He didn't care about the growing ache of hunger in his own stomach. It seemed trivial to him now.

The door opened slowly, letting a shaft of candlelight enter the room. Ignacio turned and saw his sister standing in the doorway.

"Ignacio," she said. "I was visiting the baby in the nursery, and wanted to know if you would like something to eat." She came into the room.

"I'm sorry about lunch," Ignacio said softly.

"Armand is stubborn. He is worried about you. He does speak his mind normally."

"Yes, I know Armand."

Marcela shivered in the dark room. She folded her arms and rubbed her upper arms to try to warm herself.

"Ignacio, you will both freeze to death in here. Close that window. I'll get a maid to deal with the fire. How do you survive every day life?"

He tolerated her fussing, and smiled thinly. That was why he had a sergeant, wasn't it?

He rose and closed the window, suddenly realising that Gushing Stream would be feeling cold, even if he wasn't. Why was he not focusing on his beloved properly? He yawned a little, and realised that his tiredness was getting the better of him. He drew the curtains, to try to contain some of the warmth from the growing fire in the hearth. The maid had already dealt with the fire.

Marcela was sitting at the bedside. There was candlelight in the room. How had he missed that happening?

"Ignacio?" Marcela was watching him, as he stumbled to the fire and warmed his hands thoughtfully.

"I asked her to marry me," he murmured half to himself. "I seduced her and then asked her to marry me." Maybe it was the other way around. He couldn't remember anymore. Nothing was making much sense. His mind was cloudy.

"You seduced her? She _is_ pregnant," Marcela whispered. Ignacio woke up a little, and glanced at her. Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned it. "Poor lady," she soothed, moving hair from Gushing Stream's face. "There's my girl. Sleep. Get strong."

Ignacio had lost his chair, he realised. He sighed and leaned against the mantle.

"Get out of here, Ignacio." Marcela's voice was hard. "Go and find a room, and stay away from her. Get some sleep, and get ready to pack your bags."

"Marcela," he said, a little shocked. "Why?"

"You can't treat her so badly and get away with it," Marcela said. "I have heard things about you, things I never wanted to believe. They are all true."

"Please…Ignacio," a soft voice said. Ignacio moved quickly towards the bed, and knelt beside it. He took her hand and kissed it. "Ignacio…"

Marcela placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Ignacio. I don't know why I lost my temper. She needs you. Even if I don't like it."

Ignacio ignored her. It had been the first murmur he had gotten since before he had left in such a temper at lunch time. There was water on the night stand, and he filled a tumbler.

She was awake, he realised. She was staring at him with soft brown eyes, and she knew him.

"Please, forgive me. I had to find you," he mumbled. "Please, drink some water. Please, for my sake."

She sipped some from the tilted cup and rested again. Then she sat forward a little, and took the cup from him. She slowly sipped the water until it was all gone. Ignacio felt a glow of hope begin in his heart again, and he saw the love in her eyes.

"Thank you, Gushing Stream. I love you," he murmured, taking the cup from her. She took his hand, and held it to her heart, and he could feel it beating.

"Ignacio. I should be angry with you," she murmured sleepily, as she settled back down on the pillows. "I need you here. I love you. I should never have run away. I have so much to tell you. I have to tell you…"

"I already know about the baby," he said, watching her face. "Why didn't you come back?"

"I was taking no nourishment, and I was too weak to move. I just lay there and wished to die."

"Where?"

"In a mission half way to Monterey."

"You didn't die."

"No, I got better," she said with a sleepy smile. Her hand reached for his hair, and she touched it gently. "You are real. I was starting to think I imagined you."

Marcela realised she wasn't needed any more and left the room quietly. Ignacio was lost in his beloved's warm eyes, and only just realised his sister had left. He made no move towards the chair, he felt closer to her at this level.

She was still so weak, but there was a spark in her eyes that hadn't been there before, and he knew it was hope.


	8. Tea and Tension

Tea and Tension

Ignacio woke with a crick in his neck, and realised he had dozed off with his head falling forward onto the bed, and Gushing Stream's hand caressing his hair.

She had fallen back against the pillows and was sleeping soundly. He glanced around him, a little disorientated. He was in the guest room with his beloved. She was weak and ill, but she had recognised him, and she loved him. She would try, for his sake. She'd already drank a good cupful of water.

He rested back down, and closed his eyes. He was going to be sore in the morning, but it didn't matter.

He woke with birds' song and a hand under his arm, hoisting him up and depositing him on the chair. He blinked a few times, and stared at the man in front of him.

"What are you doing, Ignacio?" Diego de la Vega stood there, with a frown on his face. "You need sleep, get yourself a bed."

"No," Ignacio murmured. "She needs me…I won't leave her."

Diego frowned more. "Why do I have to deal with this? I have enough to worry about at home. I'm here for her sake, not yours. Suit yourself."

"Diego…thank you," Ignacio said softly. Diego stared hard at him. Ignacio had never thanked anyone in his life, especially not Diego, or Zorro for that matter.

"You must be sick," Diego murmured. He turned to the woman in the bed, and checked her pulse and respiration, and saw the thinness in her general figure.

"She is cutting it pretty close, Ignacio. I can try the cactus tea, but there are no guarantees. She still could die. Her general health may be compromised for the rest of her life."

"Just do something," Ignacio said. He trusted the tea – almost to the point of bringing the dead to life.

"The baby may not survive the malnutrition of her body."

"I don't care about the baby, Diego. I care about her. Save her."

Diego glanced at him carefully. "Just how much sleep have you had in the last few days, Ignacio?"

Ignacio got out of the chair and moved restlessly around the room. He sighed, and stretched his back to release a bit of tension.

"I don't need a father, Diego. Or an older brother. And I already have a doctor," Ignacio murmured in Diego's general direction. "I have never really liked you."

"Feeling's mutual."

Ignacio glanced at the taller man, and saw him tending to the woman in the bed, ignoring him completely. She was stirring vaguely murmuring something. Ignacio almost pushed the other man aside to get to her, but refrained.

"Gushing Stream, I'm here," he said encouragingly, as he watched her eyes open. "We have the cactus tea. Everything is going to be alright," Ignacio added, totally discounting Diego's words.

Diego handed Ignacio the cup of warm cactus tea, and sat slowly on the chair.

"Here, my love, drink," he urged. He tipped the cactus tea up a little, and she gulped a tiny amount into her mouth. He tried again, and she sighed and turned her head a little.

"Disgusting," she murmured. "Too tired…Ignacio, I'll try again later."

Her eyes closed again, and Ignacio stood up from his seat on the bed. He sighed with pent up frustration, and glanced at Diego.

"I did tell you not to get too excited," Diego said with a tiny shrug. "I also told you to get some sleep."

He took the cup from Ignacio's hand, and moved to the nightstand again.

"And if you have some remark about not having to do what I say, it's childish and evidence that I am right to be concerned," Diego said without looking at Ignacio.

Ignacio glanced at the woman, anxiously.

"I will make her drink some more soon. Get some rest. If you become irrational near me, I will not tolerate it," Diego said quietly, with the hint of an underlying threat. "You'd better believe it."

Armand paused in the open doorway.

"Find this fool a bed, will you Armand?" Diego said, noticing the arrival of the other man.

Ignacio bristled a little. Diego had no right to treat him like he was stupid or a child. He wanted to draw a sword on the man, but there were none in the room, or on his person.

"We can spar later," Diego said with a hint of laughter in his voice, reading his mind without difficulty. He was deliberately playing with him. Ignacio looked around the room for anything he could throw at him. Even a book would be good enough. The bowl of warm cactus tea would be ideal, but he didn't know how much he had made, so it was too valuable. Diego would never get the stench out of his fine clothes - one day he would wear some, Ignacio decided.

Armand stepped into the room decisively, aware that Ignacio was feeling affronted, and coming close to losing his temper. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, this is a sick room right now," he said firmly. He glanced from Ignacio to Diego, obviously feeling the underlying tension in the room. "I'm sure Gushing Stream would prefer to sleep peacefully and without the sound of raised voices, or clashing swords."

"Come on Ignacio. I have a guest room right next door for you to rest in," Armand said. "Why you are both acting like jealous brothers I will never know? Get out of those clothes and I will get you a nightshirt. I think we have your luggage here somewhere by now."

The Colonel physically guided Ignacio towards bed, and made sure the fire blazed in the hearth in his room, before closing the door. Ignacio heard the key turn in the lock, and realised he had been locked in. No matter, he would have the rest they wanted him to have, and then simply pick the lock. It wasn't as if he had never done it before. He picked up the shoe he had just eased off his foot and threw it hard against the door. It felt like he was getting his point across, but it was probably childish.

He threw himself backwards onto the bed, and lay looking up at the ceiling for a few moments. It was incredibly degrading to be locked up in a guest room. Diego de la Vega had always spoiled all his fun. He should have guessed years before that he was Zorro. The man could not help but spoil his day in the mask or outside of it. After a few moments, he fell asleep contemplating the injustices of pueblo life, and masked men in general, still mostly clothed and fuming.

His dreams were restless and strange. They settled into a pattern, and became more real than scattered images, and he saw Marco approach him.

"Marco," Ignacio mumbled. "Is she dying? Is this when I lose her?"

"This is just a dream, Iggy."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that."

There was brittle laughter from his young brother, and it chilled him.

"I said you would have children, lose some, marry and lose your wife. You are losing the plot, dear brother."

"I thought you forgave me, that I was forgiven."

"That's true, but there are always consequences for our actions, good or bad. Iggy. This child you will lose. There is no choice in the matter, consequences drive our lives. Other children will come. Other days will come. You will live a long long time, as I told you before."

"You are a dream," Ignacio murmured. "No one knows the future. Diego probably could tell me if you were bad indigestion or something. Guilt from all my previous crimes. I could die tomorrow. No one knows how long they will have. Everyone needs to live their lives fully and well, because any one of else could die tomorrow. You are a dream. My guilty conscious is trying to frighten me. Stop it," Ignacio said.

Images began to flicker and spin again, and Ignacio knew he was right. Marco's voice seemed to echo in his mind, and fade as he returned to wakefulness.

Marcela was in his room, watching him sleep.

"I'm sorry from before," she murmured as she saw him wake. "Here is a nightshirt."

"Wait, Marcela. Please," he said. "Leave the door unlocked for me. She might need me in the night, please?"

"It's day time, and you do need your sleep. I was told specifically to lock the door. I would be going against my husband's wishes."

He sighed, and nodded. She leaned forward. "There is a spare key in the drawers, in case anyone ever got locked in here," she whispered. "I have to lock the door, I am sorry, Ignacio."

"Of course, I understand," he said playing the game along with her. "Thank you," he whispered to his sister. He kissed her on the forehead, and she left the room shaking her head slowly.


	9. Further Complications

Diego de la Vega came to his door after a while. Ignacio was dressed in the nightshirt and thought himself a fool for wearing one in the middle of the day. He had gotten under the blankets and was contemplating either sleep or yelling for a book at the top of his lungs. Sleep was more dominant though, and he was staring into space, attracted by the patterns of light on the wall.

Diego unlocked the door, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"What's wrong?" Ignacio said with alarm. All thoughts of sleep had disappeared at the appearance of his colleague. "Gushing Stream…"

"She's asking for you," Diego said slightly annoyed. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

Ignacio nodded, and shrugged. The dreams and scattered sleep was better than nothing he supposed.

"About before," Diego began. "I don't know how much sleep you've had in the past week, but I know I haven't slept at all. We are going to come to blows before too long, if one of us can't keep our temper in check."

Ignacio smiled a little. Diego was apologizing a little. He liked the idea.

"The bandits were that difficult?" Ignacio said, thinking about what Diego's exhaustion signified.

"It depends which ones you refer to, Alcalde. The ones in the garrison jail or the ones in the cradles?" He ran a hand through his hair, slightly distracted. "I can tell you which ones are easier, and it's not the infants."

"I am the better of two evils right now?" Ignacio asked.

Diego ignored him a little. "I think you'd better come and help with her. She is getting increasingly distressed. There seems to be some sort of complication setting in," he said softly.

"Complication?"

"Respiratory distress," Diego murmured. "Ignacio, the cactus tea is not a miracle potion. She may die, and it's quite likely she will. Hope may not be enough. It may be hard for you to accept, Ignacio. You may have to accept it."

"She can't breathe properly?"

"That's the simple definition."

Ignacio stared at his clothes, folded by someone and placed on the chair near the bed. "If you'll excuse me, Don Diego, I believe I need to dress more appropriately."

Diego startled, and followed Ignacio's eyes. He chuckled, and left the room. Ignacio hurriedly changed clothes, and was finished in moments. Glancing at himself in the mirror on the wall, Ignacio realised he did not look his best. Normally it would have irritated him, but today he didn't care.

Zzzz

He sat on the chair near the bed. Gushing Stream had fallen into a light doze again. Her breathing seemed shallow and quiet, and he couldn't really see the problem.

"Ignacio," she murmured in her sleep, and her breathing changed. It was rapid and pained, and she took strained gasps, instead of soft relaxed ones. He reached for her hand, and squeezed it.

"I'm here," he assured her, hoping she would open her eyes. He could steady her gasping breaths and help her focus on him. "I'm here." He took the hand up to his lips, and kissed the back of it gently.

She opened her eyes, and glanced around frantically.

"Where is he?"

"Who, my love?"

"That monster…don't let him near me…."

"Who?"

"My husband…" She whispered in fear. "I tried to stop him…he was always there…where is Ignacio? I need Ignacio."

Ignacio glanced at Diego who shrugged in confusion. "I am here, Gushing Stream," he assured her.

She glanced wildly around the room, and he wondered why her eyes wouldn't focus on him.

"She is dreaming," Diego said after a moment. "She is not fully conscious."

"A husband, Gushing Stream?" Ignacio asked, in confusion. "What husband?"

"Don't let him near me….Please….he'll hurt me….make him stay away," Gushing Stream gasped. Ignacio held her hand tightly.

"I will challenge him with the sword, Gushing Stream. He'll never hurt you again," Ignacio said determinedly. "He will regret the day he ever laid a finger on you." He remembered the scars on her back, the ones made by the swing of a whip against soft flesh.

"Hold me…" She finally saw him, he saw the recognition light up her eyes, and he pulled the chair closer. "I need…to be…in your arms," she gasped. Ignacio glanced up at Diego.

"If I were to get into bed with her and lie next to her, would it calm her or make this worse?"

Diego looked a little shocked, and thought for a moment. "Ignacio…"

"I will just hold her close, nothing else. Would it make the breathing worse?"

Diego sighed. Gushing Stream was gasping for breath, and working herself into a state that would make it a lot worse.

"Try it – if she gets worse you will need to get out again," Diego said with a worried frown on his face.

Ignacio eased off his jacket and vest and slipped slowly into the bed, gathering his beloved into his arms. Kissing the top of her head gently, he wondered about the mention of her husband. She was terrified of the idea of him coming for her. No wonder, considering the pregnancy to another man, and the other man in question being so close by. It was no matter; he would deal with whoever wanted to threaten his beloved.

She snuggled closer to him, and he held her to his chest, murmuring soothing sounds. Gushing Stream slowly relaxed against him, her breathing settling into a better rhythm and quality than she had had before. He kissed the top of her head again, and kept an arm around her.

"Diego, what did she mean?" Ignacio whispered, as soon as he was sure she had fallen asleep again.

Diego shrugged. Ignacio hoped that the husband was long dead and it was just a strange and horrible dream, and that he had no competition apart from the lady's own stubbornness. Ignacio tried to move, and the movement sparked a sudden change in Gushing Stream's breathing again.

"Stay where you are for a while," Diego said softly. "It's helping her. Her breathing is much stronger and healthier now that it has been for hours."

"What about…you know?"

"The husband? I can make enquiries I suppose…She's been with Armand for at least a year, and no husband was on the scene. Hopefully she really is a widow, and not a deserted wife. A husband that suddenly wants a wife back after years of searching would be a determined adversary."

Ignacio considered the options of the idea. Either the lady was a widow or a wife desperate to escape a dangerous man. Somehow he couldn't believe that a husband of such a woman would have let her get so far away from him. The possibility of her widowhood was high, he realised, with some relief. He was a good swordsman, some had said very good while he was in Madrid, but facing a furious husband was a little terrifying as a concept. He had been a good soldier, but he preferred to stay a little aloof when it came to fighting serious contenders. Zorro had always had the ability to best him in a fatal way, but he had come to realise a long time ago that the masked man was never going to kill him. So his swordsmanship duels with him had never been life or death battles. With a jealous husband they would undoubtedly be a battle to the death. Perhaps Zorro would like the chance to match swords with the man.

He was jumping the gun again, he realised and sighed. He had no idea if her husband still lived, or if he was going to face him. He shifted his weight against the bedhead and Gushing Stream murmured in her sleep.

"Hush, my love. It's alright. I'm here," he whispered.

"No, it's not alright….I killed him…he's dead…" She murmured. "He's dead…"


	10. Emotions and Plans

Emotions and Plans

Ignacio stared at her, a little shocked. "I killed him…he's dead," she murmured again. "He's dead…"

"It's alright, Gushing Stream. It's alright, hush," he whispered gently. He kissed the top of her head again, and his arms drew her close.

What nightmares were raging through her head? He could hardly imagine her hurting anyone, and discounted the statement as delirious nonsense.

"What did she say?" Diego murmured, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. "Did I hear correctly?"

"Nonsense, only nonsense," Ignacio murmured, and she sighed in his arms. He felt her thin hands clutch at his shirt, and her head burrow further onto his chest. He would protect her as best he could. Whatever had happened had happened a long time ago. Whatever it was, he would protect her at all costs.

She was so tense against him, and he murmured soothing sounds, and held her. One of his hands began to rub her back, gently and calmly and soon she had sunk into a deep sleep.

She relaxed so completely, he grew a little panicked, and glanced at Diego.

"What happened?" Ignacio murmured. "Is she alright?"

Diego crept forward and felt her wrist for a pulse. His eyes grew thoughtful, and Ignacio shivered a little.

"What?"

"Her pulse is more regular now. Her breathing seems to have calmed properly as well. You need to stay exactly as you are for as long as possible, so she can rest," Diego said. "As for this husband idea, we will take it as it comes."

"If he comes for her…"

"What will you do? He is legally entitled to his own wife," Diego said sternly.

"If he harms her, I will kill him."

Diego was quiet, and stood up. The tall man crossed over to the window, deep in thought.

"You would do the same if it was Victoria," Ignacio said. Diego nodded, staring out the window at the street below.

"Yes, yes I would," Diego murmured. "But Victoria has never been married to another, and she is now married to me anyway…Ignacio, this could lead to violence and the consequences could be extreme for both of you."

Ignacio stared down at the woman in his arms, resting so trustingly against his chest. "The consequences of our love are already extreme…for both of us. How much harder could it become?"

Diego shrugged. He glanced back at the strange pair. Ignacio had fallen for the last woman in the world he expected him to. She was beautiful, but had the definite colouring of an Indian. He had been so prejudiced in the past. Her beauty and spirit had overwhelmed Ignacio's hatred and turned it to love. She was devoted to the man – his evil deeds were nothing to her. She saw through him to something hidden deep within Ignacio, and had coaxed the goodness out of him into the open. Diego had thought it was there, buried deep. He had despaired of ever seeing Ignacio's good side. All it had taken was a heart full of love. It had melted the stone and ice that had surrounded it.

"I don't know."

"As far as we know, she is still dying, as you said. What is that to anything else? My worst fear in the world right now is that. I think I could deal with an angry monster of a husband very easily. He would fall before my sword effortlessly. I would show him no mercy, just as he had shown her no mercy. Someone definitely has flogged her, Diego."

"How do you…? Never mind," Diego said. He frowned at the idea of anyone hurting a woman in that way, especially a woman they had promised to love and protect for life.

He turned away from the window, and sighed. "Ignacio, we have only sketchy information right now. Let's see if we can get further details, before we talk of violence, alright?"

Ignacio sighed as well. Diego had a point, he realised. "Yes, Diego. I am being emotional."

"Emotions cloud reason, they have no place in strategy. That is something you need to learn. Why do you think you never could arrest me and contain me? Anger just makes fools of us all."

"What are we going to do about the pueblo? No one is in authority there at the moment," Ignacio said, suddenly having a thought.

"Mendoza is in charge, remember?"

"As I said, no one in _authority_ is there at the moment," Ignacio said worriedly. "Some of the lancers are improving, but still….Bandits will overwhelm them."

"I can go and inform Zorro that he may be needed," Diego said thoughtfully. "I hate to leave you, you may need me."

"Make up plenty of cactus tea," Ignacio said with a worried frown. "If she drinks it, it will do her good, surely? What else can you really do?"

Diego was nodding. "Victoria needs me, and I've already been gone almost two days. I can do nothing for her, Ignacio. If she lives it will be because of her love for you, and the cactus tea, if she drinks it at all. There is no other medicine I can give her, nothing another doctor could provide." Diego stared into Ignacio's eyes. "Hold her as long as you can. You may not have very long together. If she rallies she may even survive."

"This husband…?"

"Send me word immediately if he presents a problem," Diego said. "I will return as soon as I can."

Ignacio watched as the man fidgeted in the room, and nodded. "Go home to your family, Diego. Tell Zorro thank you for his help with the bandits. I'll be alright."

"If she dies, send me word. I'll ride back with you," Diego said, a seriousness underlying his tone. "Be sure to do that, Alcalde."

Ignacio half smiled, and stared at the wall. "Are you worried about me?"

Diego didn't answer him; he was gathering his belongings and heading for the door.

Zzzz

Ignacio held her for a very long time, and his muscles grew tired and achy. He longed to stretch his arms a little, but didn't dare move. If it was helping her stay calm and safe, if it was helping her breathe, he could stay like that a little longer. He sighed, and breathed deeply, catching a faint smell of lavender on her skin. It was the scent that usually he associated with her, so it was probably his imagination.

"Oh, Gushing Stream. What have you had to go through, my love?" He whispered into her hair. "How can I save you?"

She slept on, and he closed his eyes, trying to block out all the emotions that had started to cloud his mind. Diego was right, emotions were for fools. Only love was worth feeling, he realised. He may have to be armed and ready for battle at a moment's notice. He needed to harden his soul against any other distraction than love and battle readiness. Fear was irrelevant and would not prevent anything really. Anger was going to make him irrational. Hope may even be a wasted emotion when it really came down to it. He thought of his rapier hanging in his guest room, and wanted it close.


	11. Questions and Answers

Questions and Answers

Gushing Stream woke later and stretched a little, and Ignacio was startled out of his doze. He glanced down at the woman in his arms, and noticed that she seemed a little stronger than she had been.

Ignacio flexed his shoulders a little, and watched her open her eyes. Deep dark pools of almost black peeped out at him, making him smile a little.

"Hello," he murmured. "How are you feeling?"

"Sleepy, but a little better."

"You had us worried for a little while," he said. "You were very weak."

"I still am I think," she said. "I've had such nightmares."

"You were saying something about a man. Your husband." She startled against him. He kissed the top of her head. "It's alright. I'm not going to let him hurt you again."

"My husband…Oh," she murmured. Gushing Stream stared into space.

"It was a long time ago. It's so long ago, Ignacio."

He waited.

"He was a monster. Truly a monster. He's dead now."

"You said you killed him."

She turned her head to look at him. "Did I say that?"

"Yes. Did you kill him?"

"Does it matter?" Ignacio was a little stunned by the question.

"What are you saying?"

"There were witnesses, apparently," she murmured. He froze for a moment. She sighed. "Witnesses that say I didn't do any such thing," she added. "I don't believe them."

Ignacio had gone from tense to relaxed to tense again. "What do you mean?"

"He was drunk, they said. Drunk and imbalanced."

"Men do get imbalanced when they drink to excess," Ignacio said.

"It only took a touch," she murmured. "I touched him. He fell. He fell down the stairs in our hacienda."

"He was drunk. Your touch wouldn't have done anything," Ignacio said with a sigh of relief. "You didn't push him downstairs. If the witnesses said you didn't, then you didn't," he added. If they had sworn to it, then that was what had happened. He could imagine a victimised woman taking advantage of the situation and shoving a dangerous man down stairs to meet his end. There had been witnesses. If she had taken advantage of the situation someone would have seen her.

"His brother says otherwise," Gushing Stream whispered. "He frightens me, Ignacio. He believes that because I was born an Indian I was always trying to kill my husband."

"Nonsense, this is all emotional turmoil, Gushing Stream. The man cannot have a vendetta against you. That's nonsense…" She cast a look of annoyance at him, and he sighed. "I know men…"

"You don't know these men. My husband pushed me down those stairs three times while he was drunk. I lost three babies before they were born," she whispered. "I wanted him dead. My wishes killed him. There were so many times I wanted to end it for myself, when I was in fear all the time. There were so many times I planned his death, right down to the weapon in my hand. I hated him so much, Ignacio. The night before he died, I had held a dagger to my own chest, ready to plunge it into myself. A maid had entered my rooms, otherwise I would have died."

"Who flogged you?"

"What?"

"The whip marks on your back. I know what made them. My father had a whip, I have the same scars from my boyhood."

Gushing Stream shuddered a little. "I thought I felt something on your back," she whispered.

"Well?"

"It doesn't matter. It's healed now," she answered. "No one ever sees them. It's not a problem, Ignacio."

"It is. Someone hurt you, and I want to know who."

"So you can hurt them as well? Ignacio, that just keeps violence moving. It is a cycle. Someone would want to have vengeance over you, and hurt you, and then someone would hurt them back."

"No they wouldn't," he said ruefully. "No one would avenge me."

There was a strange silence. "I would," she whispered.

He held her close to him, and kissed her head. "Please, we don't need to talk about this," she whispered. "I did the wrong thing a long time ago, and I paid for it. There were boundaries I was not allowed to cross."

"As a child? As a woman?"

"Both," she said. "I have been punished as both."

"Never again. Never ever again."

"Alonso's brother hates me, and always has. I ran away, and I signed everything over to Enrique. He would have killed me to get the fortune back. I think he just wants to kill me now. I don't know why," she murmured.

"Are you sure that you didn't dream this part? Why would Enrique want you dead if he has everything he wanted?" Ignacio asked. He wanted to soothe her, and calling her fears irrational may just reason them away, and stop them hurting her. He could then discover how true they really were.

"I don't know."

"Did he threaten you? Did he hurt you?"

"He tried to touch me. He tried to force me to…" Her voice faded. "I couldn't. I could see hate in his eyes, not love. How could I give myself to that sort of man? Even to safeguard my future, or to save my life?"

Ignacio swore under his breath. He would kill the man, he promised himself. If Enrique came anywhere near Gushing Stream he would kill him. He would defend her honor.

"Marry me, Gushing Stream. I can protect you. I love you," Ignacio said softly. She relaxed a little. "I can keep you safe. I will never leave you unguarded. I will defend you to my last drop of blood."

"Ignacio, you frighten me. I don't want any violence," she whispered.

"Enrique may not give us any choice," Ignacio said softly. "If you married me, he would have no claim to you."

"If he killed you he would."

"Not going to happen, my love. Never going to happen," he said with a smile.

She glanced at him.

"Now," he said. "You will have some of the cactus tea, even if it is disgusting. Then when it is lunchtime you will have some broth."

"And so will you," she murmured. "I heard your stomach growling before. You need nourishment as much as I do."

"Not quite as much as you do," he answered softly. He shifted his weight a little, and she eased herself off his chest, and onto the pillows. He swung himself down from the bed. Picking up the cup of cactus tea, he lifted it to her lips. She screwed her nose up at the smell of the potion, but she reached out and took the cup. Shaking fingers held the vessel, and lifted it to her own mouth. He cupped his hand over hers and helped her steady the shaking. She sipped at it, and glancing at his excited eyes, she continued to drink until the little cup was empty.

"Good work, my love. Rest and sleep for a while," Ignacio said, proud of her willingness to try. She looked drowsy very quickly. "I'll get us both some chicken broth. Marcela will be happy to hear that we are both eating something for lunch."

"Ignacio, don't go far," she whispered. Her eyes were closing to sleep, and he smiled at her.

"Of course not," he answered. "A quick trip downstairs for a chat to Marcela and to choose a book and then straight back up here. I can read for a while – you can sleep."

"Marry me, my love. Say yes," he whispered, but she was already drifting into a deep sleep. Hopefully she would not dream.


	12. A Quiet Conversation

A Quiet Conversation

Gushing Stream was still asleep when he returned with the book, her dark hair still loose and draped around her like a princess in a fairy tale book. He smiled a little at his lady's beauty, even though her skin was deathly pale, as he sat down on the chair and opened the book. After a while he lay it upside down on his lap, and leant back in the chair as his thoughts wandered.

Alonso who? Enrique who? Where had Gushing Stream and her husband lived? How likely was an attack from Enrique? What did the man look like? Was he in Monterey nearby, was he abroad? How wealthy were they? Did they truly present a threat? What would he do if they approached him in any way?

His eyes drifted to his beloved, watching her chest rise and fall regularly, under the warm blankets. It was deeper than it had been before. There was still a slight wheeze to her breathing. The respiratory distress was still disturbing her.

The chair was comfortable and bathed in golden sunlight. The warmth soothed and relaxed him, and soon he was dozing. His exhaustion was beginning to overtake him, but he was really just resting his eyes. His legs stretched out in front of him, and his head nodded forward slowly, his chin finally resting on his chest. After a few moments, a soft snore would have told the rest of the world that he slept.

He woke later, distracted by soft feminine voices. He was almost startled out of his relaxed posture, but as he heard Marcela's soft voice, he pretended to sleep on. His sister was probably still angry with him. He didn't want raised voices in Gushing Stream's room.

"I don't understand Gushing Stream. Why Ignacio? Everything they say about him is true. He is a nasty cruel man, my family loyalty blinded me to it at first. I see quite well now, though. You are such a kind, gentle woman. Why him?"

"He's getting so much better. Marcela, why would Zorro become friends with him if he wasn't? Why would Padre Benitez commend him so highly. I can see with my own eyes how hard he is trying," Gushing Stream said softly. "Look at him, Marcela. Just look at him…"

"I'm looking. I see a pirate of a man – not a hero. Somehow all this goodness is a trick. It's a pity. I had thought so highly of him before."

"No. You are romantically inclined, and want to believe the best in people – better than they can possibly be. Such a high pedestal makes it easy to tumble from it." Gushing Stream's voice was soft but insistent. Just a trace of frustration could be heard in her patient voice. "Ideals are always wrong, when you try to place them on character. Everyone sins, my friend."

"He seduced you – with no intention of marriage…"

Gushing Stream chuckled a little, Ignacio heard. He had been ready to stir and disrupt their little chat, but he stayed still and wanted to hear more. It was not as if the ladies would talk this way in front of him at any other time. He wanted to protest that he had suggested marriage – albeit after they had seduced each other, he would have added in his own defence.

"I seduced him," she whispered. He listened harder, as the conversation grew more interesting and the voice grew even softer. "I was never going to see him again. I had made up my mind to leave as soon as possible. I had fallen in love, I must admit with a little embarrassment. At the age of 27, I am too old for such a nonsense." Her voice grew a little more thoughtful. "I am a widow, Marcela. I have no fear of Ignacio. I asked… I requested certain things."

"Certain things?"

"I think you would be aware of such things. You have birthed a child," Gushing Stream responded a little strangely. Ignacio almost smiled. She had been watching him sleep, and had become a little shy with him in the room.

"I am a woman. He is a very attractive man. I…I love him." Ignacio almost sighed with relief. "He loves me. He really loves me," she spoke with such wonder in her tired voice, that Ignacio felt a glow of happiness.

"Like Armand loves me?"

"Exactly. And Ignacio….fulfilled every need."

Ignacio stirred himself, startled from his pretense by the comment. He pretended he had heard nothing of their conversation. The ladies made a tiny sound as if they had been staring at him intensely for a moment, and were suddenly feeling guilty for it. Their conversation was well and truly over. He glanced around slowly, as if just waking up, and saw their blushing faces.

He smiled and stretched, exaggerating his movements slowly. He pulled his long legs in, and rose to his feet.

"How are you, Gushing Stream? I have slept so long that we have missed lunch," Ignacio said, suddenly noticing the time. "I'll have to go and get the broth for you."

"I fed her, Ignacio. I'll send someone for your lunch in a moment. Are you hungry?" Marcela said.

"A bowl of soup would do nicely." He watched her fuss and fidget with her shawl, and tried not to stare at her agitated movements too much. She smiled at both of them and left the room.

Gushing Stream was watching him. Her tired eyes were still very sharp and alert.

"How much of that conversation were you listening to, Ignacio?"

It was his turn to blush, he could feel heat rising on his face. He chuckled a little, and looked away from her.

"Exactly what I was thinking," she murmured.

"You said…those things…for my benefit?" He stopped laughing for a moment and looked her in the eye. "You didn't seduce me, Gushing Stream…I was well and truly doing what I knew I wanted to do. I love you. I just expected you to stop me before I went…that far."

Her smile faded slowly. "Alonso and Enrique called me a red harlot…"

"That is not true."

"I have the makings of one, Ignacio. The reputation is building anyway."

"I asked you something before – but you were sleeping," Ignacio said, ignoring the comments.

"The answer is…" She glanced at him, and continued. "I heard the question, Ignacio."

"You were saying?" Ignacio was trying not to become too impatient, but failing quite badly.

"Are you sure about this? Completely sure? This will change your life completely," she murmured.

"Yes, I love you. I want to be with you every day. I want to hold you in my arms and kiss you," Ignacio said distractedly.

"Very inept courtship skills," she said softly.

"Alright," Ignacio said softly, slightly offended. "I will leave and learn some skills, and return a changed man," he added in all seriousness. Her eyes lit up with laughter.

"Ignacio. I don't want a caballero. I want you," she whispered. "The answer is yes."

He turned around. He had been in the process of acting out his impulsive threat and his hand had reached for the door knob. The look on his face made her laugh some more.

Reaching the bed in a few moments, he resisted the impulse to kiss her passionately. She was still deathly pale, and incredibly fragile. Death was still quite likely, and he had to remember that – but the excitement that flooded his body was powerful.

"Sit down on the bed, just here." She pointed. "What do you say?"

"Tomorrow, today? We could have a bedside wedding," he murmured. "Benitez did Diego's in an unconventional way."

"All this excitement, Ignacio. Take a breath," she whispered with a smile. "Whenever, wherever. All I want is you. All I need is you," she added.

"And cactus tea, and soup…" he said with a serious undertone. "Lots and lots of soup." He took her thin hand, and kissed it gently.


	13. Ignacio's Marriage

Ignacio's Marriage

Ignacio de Soto and Gushing Stream were married in the great cathedral in Monterey.

Ignacio stared at his lovely wife, in Marcela's wedding dress. She leant heavily on his arm, and he supported her carefully. She had been stubborn enough to insist on a church wedding, inside the cathedral. Ignacio had humoured all her wishes, but the cathedral itself brought back devastating memories of when Gushing Stream had sunk into his arms, skeletal and half dead. Today had created new memories, better memories.

She was dressed all in white. A modest, high necked dress covered in beadwork and lace highlighted the thinness of her figure, reminding him a little of her illness. A month had passed since the day he had found her, and during the time of nursing her back to health, he had only fallen in love more deeply. Her eyes glowed with hidden laughter, and her hair was starting to get softer. Her hands were not so bony and fragile looking, but she still had the paleness of a very ill woman.

Gushing Stream glowed with happiness, as she walked hesitantly and with trembling footsteps. He guided her gently, and steered her towards the carriage waiting for them at the church steps. Ignacio was grateful to the de la Vegas for their loan of the buggy, and wondered at their developing friendship. Diego had been otherwise en gaged, or he would have been a welcome guest.

As it was, Armand and Marcela had been their only witnesses, but they had been enough. They came forward to say goodbye.

"Look at you, Gushing Stream. So beautiful," Marcela said, embracing her gently. "Ignacio, you look after her," she added, hugging her brother tightly.

"Ignacio," Armand said. "You take care of yourself and your bride. There may be bandits on the road," he warned.

Ignacio helped his beloved into the carriage, supporting her on piles of pillows, and draped a thick blanket over her.

He turned and took his brother-in-law's hand.

"There may be trouble coming your way, Ignacio. I will support you as best I can, I can assure you. Some people are set in their ways and their beliefs, your marriage will not please everyone in the territory."

Ignacio nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you, Colonel. I am in your debt. You have taken so much care of us in the last month…"

"Debt?" The man laughed. "You are family, Ignacio. Any time you need my help, come to me."

Ignacio nodded, and climbed into the buggy sitting next to his bride. A de la Vega servant had the reins, and the trip home would be very easy, all things considered. The man wondered for a moment about the possibility of bandits, and factored in his newly trained lancers and the possibility of Zorro's patrols. Somehow he had the feeling that the possibility of Zorro's patrols was very high.

Zzz

Ignacio was pleasantly surprised to see his sergeant welcoming him back at the town's entrance. He was fond of his inept sergeant. They had seen a lot of change together within the past few years. He greeted him with a wave, and turned his attention to the tall man lounging in the shaded patio of the Tavern.

"Hello, Alcalde. I trust your journey wasn't too arduous." Diego rose and went to the carriage to help Ignacio with Gushing Stream.

"Don Diego, thank you for the use of your carriage," Ignacio said loud enough for most people to hear. "It was a great blessing for me and my wife."

Several of the older dons overheard and cast curious looks into the carriage. Some frowned and turned away, and some smiled as if they could not believe it.

"I will have to expand my quarters soon, Don Diego. As you know, my family will soon be expanding," Ignacio said in an undertone. He did not want the whole pueblo to be aware of how soon that would actually be.

"Whatever help you and your wife need, rest assured I will assist where I am able to," Diego said just as quietly.

Ignacio drew Gushing Stream into his arms, and almost melted as she draped gentle arms around his neck to support her weight more. He wanted to kiss her passionately, and he didn't really care who saw. Diego cleared his throat loudly, and he returned to reality. Glancing at Diego's stern look, he shrugged. Ignacio turned and carried his wife to his office. Diego followed and made himself useful by holding the doors open for the Alcalde.

Ignacio went through to his bedroom, and gently deposited his wife on his bed. He kissed her lightly on her forehead, and looked into her dark eyes, as he sunk onto the bed next to her. Diego wandered back out of the private quarters, back to the street, well aware that he had been quickly forgotten.

"Ignacio, this brings back memories," she said with a smile. He chuckled as memories of their moments of forbidden passion all too quickly sprung to mind.

"How will they take to the arrival of the baby?" She murmured, a little concern filtering into her voice. He noticed the weariness in her voice, and realised she was tired.

"It's not that soon," he murmured, trying to soothe her doubts. He kissed her softly on her lips, and watched her as she closed her eyes to savour his touch. Their future was going to be good, he knew. How could it not be wonderful? He had the women of his dreams in his arms, and in his life. His child grew steadily inside her. What could go wrong with the picture? Doubts were not going to be tolerated – not today.

"I think I may be half way there already. We will have to consult with Dr Hernandez as soon as possible," Gushing Stream said softly, refusing to be distracted. "And, Ignacio…?"

"Yes?"

"Don't call me Gushing Stream in public anymore, please."

"It's your name," he protested. He pulled away from her for a moment, to scrutinise her small face. Her eyes were serious.

"Please, call me Sarah in public," she insisted. "Gushing Stream is for just us, now."

"I don't know…" He didn't understand why her name was such a serious issue. How could a name be a problem for them.

"The dons will accept me better with a European name, a civilised name. You even prefer me in European dress as well, so you are just as blinkered as they are," Gushing Stream said softly.

He frowned a little, feeling a little irritated by her observation. It was probably true, he realised. "If you want to wear traditional clothing, I would not stop you," he said thoughtfully.

"But you would not be comfortable with it, Ignacio. I want to be comfortable, and I want my friends to be comfortable as well. I have no problem with an English name and English clothes. My friends may have a problem with anything else."

"You are a great lady, Sarah," he murmured, lifting a tiny hand to his lips. She giggled a little, and sighed. "I want to cover you with kisses…" His lips kissed her hand all over, stopping at the wrist cuffs of her wedding dress.

"I know," she said. "I'm still too weak, aren't I?"

"Yes," he said reluctantly. "We will have our chance, when the baby arrives."

She smiled, and glanced away. Her hand travelled to the growing bulge in her stomach area. A thoughtful look came into her dark eyes, and he caught her hand again. The kiss on the back of her hand startled her out of her daydream and she smiled again. His lips found hers, and they contented themselves with kissing. His mouth travelled to her ear lobes, and down her throat and back again to her mouth. She sighed and moaned softly.

Ignacio's body felt cheated, and as she murmured his name with desire, he realised that she felt the same. The months of waiting…hopefully they would pass quickly.


	14. Ignacio at the Party

Ignacio at the Party

Ignacio and Gushing Stream had been invited to the party but as soon as they entered the hacienda it was soon apparent they were not too welcome inside. Ignacio placed a cautious hand on the hilt of his rapier, feeling incredibly threatened, but not sure why. He felt Gushing Stream tighten muscles in her arm, as she walked a little closer to him, and he smiled down at her. His right arm reached over, away from the sword, and patted her hand reassuringly.

"Alcalde de Soto, Senora de Soto," Dona Felicia welcomed them softly, and led them into the library.

"Don Diego," Gushing Stream said, seeing her friend. She smiled and they went over to him. "The boys are getting big now, aren't they?" She sat with Dona Victoria and the infants. Diego's wife was trying to entertain them as best she could, but Victoria was glancing around the room, aware of the disapproving glances of the other Donas.

"I can do nothing right in their eyes, senora," Victoria murmured, with a sigh. "When can we go home, Diego?"

"We have to stay a little longer, this is my father's oldest friend," Diego said with a trace of his own frustration.

"It's not you, Dona Victoria, it's me," Gushing Stream said softly.

Victoria stared a little at her new friend, and glanced back up at the other ladies. Diego frowned, and considered them as well.

"Alcalde, you should take your wife home," Diego said a little loudly. "She looks very ill."

Ignacio stared at Diego for a moment. "We only just arrived, Diego. We are trying to make a good impression," he murmured.

"It's not worth it. Your wife is ill, Ignacio. You need to treasure her. Especially far above this family. Dona Felicia only invited you to gossip."

"I can handle gossip, Don Diego. I have been gossiped about ever since I can remember. If this visit helps Ignacio, I can bear it," Gushing Stream said softly. "We can stay and bear it."

Diego looked doubtful, and glanced at Ignacio. He motioned to the chair at the far side of the room, large enough for both of them to sit down and talk.

Ignacio followed him, a little thoughtful. Was Diego telling him to take his Indian wife home, because of his own intolerance? That was hardly likely with his history.

"Diego, I feel a little angered by you telling us to go home," Ignacio said, carefully. "We were invited."

"I know these people. I grew up with this man's son. Ignacio, they hate Indians. They invited you, but it was not to be kind or polite. It was so they can catch you and your wife being social innocents, and mock you both."

"Gushing…Sarah has more manners than I do. Probably more than you do, Diego."

"Well, probably. The English family who raised her would have insisted on that."

"I never back down from a fight, Diego. You know me."

"Looks like your wife doesn't either," Diego said with a trace of a smile. "Her health is vulnerable, Ignacio."

"What do you mean? She is much better," Ignacio said.

"Childbirth kills stronger women than her," Diego murmured. "You may only have a limited time together."

"So might you and Victoria. You still wear the mask; you still go up against evil men. Any advice you give me, I throw right back at you, my friend." Ignacio's voice had an edge to it. He stood and made his way back to his wife. Diego sighed and watched him go for a moment, before moving to help his wife with his boys.

Zzz

"What did you say?" Ignacio rose to his feet. The men in the room watched him with interest. "How dare you?"

Diego stood and searched for words. "Come now, Alcalde. It was said in jest," he murmured eventually. Ignacio glared at him, before turning the gaze on his adversary. Why did Diego have to interfere all the time?

"Don Raphael, apologise," he growled, and advanced on the man. His hand was on the hilt of his rapier. Don Raphael drew his sword, and Diego managed somehow to get between them, just as the Alcalde drew his rapier.

"Gentlemen," Diego said his voice firmer than usual. "A man's wife is his most treasured possession. How would you feel if the Alcalde said such things about your own wife, senor?"

"My wife isn't an Indian whore," Don Raphael said with feeling. Diego put a hand on Ignacio's shoulder.

"I demand satisfaction," Ignacio growled, glaring at Diego for preventing him reaching his true enemy. "Don Raphael, tomorrow at dawn."

"Certainly. Your widow can take her unborn brat and leave this pueblo in peace," Raphael replied.

Ignacio watched as the man turned and left the room. He slowly replaced his sword, and glanced towards the door. Gushing Stream stood in the door, her face pale, and her head slowly shaking from side to side.

"What have you done, Ignacio?"

"Sarah…" Ignacio tried, and she turned and left where she was standing. He went after her, and he had to move fast to keep up with her.

"Sarah, what was I supposed to do? Pretend you mean nothing to me? The man insulted your honour. I did what any husband of any worth would do," he said when he caught up with her. They were standing in the yard.

"Please get our buggy," she said to a stable boy. "I am Senora de Soto." The boy nodded, and hastened to do as he was told. "I want to go home, Ignacio."

"Are you worried that I will lose the duel?" He walked after her, as she followed the boy.

"Please, Sarah," he said as he touched her arm, to slow her at least. She had never ignored him before, and it made him irritable. "Most women would be pleased that their husbands cared enough to defend their honour…"

"I am not Spanish, Ignacio. I also have no interest in either my husband being killed, or killing someone else. My honour is not worth someone's life," she said angrily. "Get your hand off my arm," she added quietly. He withdrew it quickly.

Victoria came out of the house, and went over to them. "Senora, are you well?"

"A little tired," she said with feeling. Victoria took her arm, and the stubbornness that was sustaining Gushing Stream faltered. She seemed exhausted. Victoria let her lean on her arm, and glanced at Ignacio with irritation.

"Your pregnancy is progressing, it's normal," she reassured Gushing Stream gently, as she led her towards the carriage.

Diego was at Ignacio's side.

"I did what I needed to do, Diego. You would have done the same," Ignacio said softly, as he watched the women.

"I would have thought about my wife, about our sons, Alcalde. I am Diego de la Vega. Have you ever seen me pick up a sword to defend someone's honour?"

The Alcalde thought for a moment. He chuckled a little, and some of the tension left his body. No, he had never seen Diego de la Vega defend anyone with a sword. That was before his time. Zorro seemed very happy to do his fighting for him.

Diego put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Welcome to the socially unacceptable, my friend. Although, I suspect you will be the top of the heap for a long time. At least I have my money and position to defend my wife. No one has ever dared insult my wife, not since the very beginning and its problems. You have nothing except your sword."

"I'll watch him, and put him in my jail if he so much as…"

Diego's eyes stopped him. "What would Gushing Stream say about that?"

Ignacio sighed. "My wife expects me to be a storybook gentleman, peaceful and noble. I don't think I can be who she wants me to be."

"It's worth it to try," Diego said softly. "Remember that she could die – you could lose her – it's more than likely," he added, reluctantly.

"My princess is strong, Diego. She will be alright," Ignacio said, but his words lacked the power they once had. He had seen her get so much stronger, but she still seemed weak. It worried him.


	15. Ignacio's Duel

Ignacio's Duel

Ignacio stirred, and woke next to his wife in their small bed, several hours before dawn. He spent a few moments watching her sleep, pleased at her regular deep breathing. Her health had come a long way since those weeks in Monterey, and he could barely remember the terrible fear that he would lose her. He had felt it constantly back then.

Ignacio reached out and touched a strand of her long, luxurious hair, soft and silky again after so many weeks of being brittle and dry. He stroked her soft cheek and smiled at the way she responded to his touch, by whispering his name in her sleep. He carefully shifted his pillow to replace his warm body, where he had been lying, and draped her arm across it, so that she didn't get too disturbed by his absence. He did not want to wake her so early.

He made his way to the wardrobe to grab a shirt to shrug on, his bare chest missing the warmth of his wife's embrace. He shivered at the cold feel of the cotton around his body, as he buttoned the garment slowly, watching his wife. She was a light sleeper usually, and he watched for tell-tale signs that she was waking. Hopefully he would be long gone before she did wake.

Ignacio knew she disapproved of what he was planning to do. She loved the concept of justice and the idea that good men needed to be hard and brutal did not sit well with her. Ignacio sighed. He had to do what he had to do. It was the only way he could think of to deal with the anger that rose up in him every time he remembered the horrible words. The hate towards that oaf was almost all consuming.

"Ignacio," she whispered. He saw that she was awake, and she was already struggling with the covers he had tucked around her. "Please, Ignacio. My love, don't do this," she whispered.

He crossed over to her, and held her in his arms gently. He kissed her forehead absentmindedly, and she reached her arms around him, and kissed his mouth. Her lips were soft and warm, and she was already unbuttoning his shirt. Her lips kissed a trail across his shoulders, and her fingers stroked him softly over his chest, and he closed his eyes to savour her touch for a moment, before taking charge of her hands.

Their eyes met and she broke the eye contact first. "I don't want you to do this, Ignacio. Stay with me," she whispered. "Why refuse me? I love you, let me kiss you…" He held her hands firmly for a few extra moments, and the tenderness in her eyes slowly dimmed. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to kill that man. Can't you understand?"

He stared into her serious eyes and almost understood. "I'm just not that important…" The words startled him, and they were definitely the worst thing she could have said. He stood up from where he had sunk down to her level, and crossed the room to get some space between them. He hurriedly buttoned up his shirt again, shaking his head slowly as he struggled to think again. His body had almost succumbed to her touch, and it wasn't what he had planned for the morning at all.

"No. I do not understand, Gushing Stream," he said with annoyance. "I cannot understand why you should not be important enough to defend. Your honour and mine are connected now. You are important for yourself, but now you are also important because you are my wife. I love you. Why shouldn't I deal with ruffians who misuse you?"

"They didn't hurt me, Ignacio. I don't even know what they said, no one will tell me. I didn't hear them, they didn't shoot at me, they didn't throw a knife at me," Gushing Stream said. "Maybe I don't understand either."

"It feels like they threw a knife at me," Ignacio said as he turned away. "It hurts to hear my wife referred to like that. You may be used to it, Gushing Stream. I will never be used to it."

She sighed, and sat down against the pillows. "Please," she whispered.

"I don't understand. You have seen the brutality of men; surely you want some revenge, some protection. Let me do this for you," Ignacio said, looking at her again. "I want to make sure you are safe."

"I will never be safe, Ignacio. Only in this room, I can be safe. I want the world to change – I will make it safe around me. Please, Ignacio. I was forced to live with violent men. I need to be away from it, Ignacio. Violence and anger make me sick. I can't live in fear anymore," she whispered. "Please don't make me afraid."

"You will never be afraid, my love. I will make sure people treat you with respect," Ignacio said. He wondered what she was talking about. He wasn't really following the conversation well. His mind was already focusing on the duel he would have to face soon.

"You don't have to go out there, Ignacio. You could stay with me."

Ignacio stared at her in disbelief. He had issued the challenge. To back out now would declare to the world that he was a coward, and he would never do that.

"I have to do what I have to do, Gushing Stream. Please stay in the room, whatever happens."

"If I go outside you will not be able to do it?"

"If you go outside I may worry about you, and be shot dead," he said bluntly. She made a soft noise as if he had slapped her. "Excuse me, I need to go."

Stepping out of the room, he felt more in control of himself emotionally, and that was important. He needed a clear head with what he was about to do. He didn't want to be shot at all, but he also saw the draw backs of actually killing Don Raphael. He would be reprimanded and possibly court martialled if he did kill him. He may have to even flee the country, and his wife was heavily pregnant now. High stress and rapid travel was no good for any woman, let alone a fragile pregnant one.

Yet he had to actually hit the man. He had to pay for the disrespect with some pain. If he clipped his shoulder, it would be alright. He would have to have his aim perfect; otherwise the shot could result in more serious injury. Perhaps the leg would be more risk free? If he hit an artery it would be very bad. He sat at his desk and contemplated his options. If he aimed for the shoulder, he risked hitting the head, or the chest. If he aimed for the leg, there was less risk of a fatal injury. The leg would do, then. He would aim low and to the side. He trusted his own ability to be able to achieve such a shot, but he would have to be precise.

Zzzz

Daylight peeked over the horizon as he moved out into the plaza. No one was awake at that time of day. The sergeant acted as his second, and Don Raphael's brother acted as his. They set about the duel in the European fashion, standing back to back, taking the ten steps forward, turning and firing.

The shot fired from Ignacio's pistol went exactly where he had planned. The man cried out and crumpled to the ground. Raphael's shot had gone wide, either on purpose or by accident, Ignacio couldn't tell. He stood and watched the others rush to the Raphael's side, and someone sent for the doctor. He stood still, and lowered his spent pistol.

"Alcalde?" Sergeant Mendoza said softly, and made Ignacio's mind work again. Somehow he had gone into shock, and he shook himself out of it. "Some coffee, perhaps?"

"In my office, Sergeant," Ignacio said, automatically heading back to his home. "Get some for my wife as well. I think we will have the morning off. I think that would work well," he added. "Yes, I think it will."


	16. Ignacio's Warning

Ignacio's Warning

The pueblo was quiet and Ignacio felt a little more isolated than he ever had been before. He wondered why. It was even slightly worse than when he was a tyrant ruling over the people with unpredictable daily terror and violence. Was the reaction all because he had chosen to marry an Indian woman - surely not?

People nodded to him in the street and passed him by quickly. The dons in the Tavern turned their backs, and they had never done that before. Maybe a few public hangings may bring back his respect. A little fear running through their veins might make them see how much better their lives were now. A little uncertainty may make them wake up to themselves.

He was served by Pilar, the new manager of the Tavern. She smiled at him kindly, and he was a little startled. She had always been so shy of him before.

"Tell Senora de Soto, that her remedy worked," Pilar said softly. "I feel so much better. Make sure you thank her for me." He smiled back a little unsure of her. She passed him over a larger serving than she usually gave him as he sat and ate in his corner.

Gushing Stream was not speaking to him. He usually ate with her at his home. The lancers were busy enlarging their quarters to prepare for the child. They were going to have a small library as well, to cater for her taste in reading. He wanted her to be happy, and over the past couple of days she definitely wasn't happy. She had received him with an embrace that had driven the air out of his lungs with its fierceness. When she had heard about the outcome of the duel, she slapped him hard across the face.

"You could have missed him completely. Why did you have to hurt him?" Her anger had been extreme, he had never seen her so angry. "Don't come near me, if you value your safety."

He had wondered at her words, but out of respect for her and her pregnancy he had left the room before he had reacted. He realised that he would never understand her reasoning. Whatever she was thinking she was not going to share it with him.

The arrival of Diego de la Vega was understated but he realised straight away that the man was in the same room. He was glaring down at him.

"I didn't think Zorro was needed in the plaza anymore," he murmured, just for their hearing. "Ignacio, I thought better of you."

"You knew I would do it. Don't deny that," Ignacio murmured back. "Sit and eat, Don Diego. I'll buy you a drink…lemonade?"

Diego nodded at Pilar, and she went into the kitchen to fetch it.

"Sarah is so angry with me," he added.

"Why wouldn't she be?"

"It was for her, Diego. For her honour."

"A woman's honour is not as valuable for her as it is for her husband," Diego said softly. "It is a toy in the hands of men," he added thoughtfully. Ignacio wondered if it was another one of his random obscure quotes. Diego glanced up suddenly, and gestured behind Ignacio with a nod. "Armand is here."

Ignacio turned and watched as the Colonel approached him. He rose and realised the significance of the military uniform and the lancer by his side. It was an official visit. He swallowed and saluted. News travelled fast sometimes. Duelling with civilians was technically prohibited, but so had been most of his old ways. They just hadn't gotten round to dealing with him and his injustice for the peons and the Indians of the district. It must be different when dealing with wealthy dons and their sons.

"Alcalde, I will need to speak to you on a serious matter in the privacy of your office," Armand said seriously. "Don Diego, a pleasure, as always." Diego stood and watched the two men leave the Tavern.

Ignacio was aware of everyone's eye on him as he left the Tavern.

Crossing over the road, the Colonel sent the lancer to refresh himself in the barracks, and Ignacio relaxed a little. It was going to be between them, at least to start with.

Ignacio sat behind his desk, interlacing his fingers, resting his elbows on the surface of the desk. He stared in front of him for a few moments to centre his thoughts and breathe deeply. Armand sat on the other chair and stared at him silently, until he glanced up into his eyes.

"Ignacio, you are in trouble," Armand said softly. "The Governor received a letter from Don Raphael's father yesterday, and has taken me to task on your actions."

Ignacio was silent, and waited for Armand to continue.

"You know the rules about duelling, Alcalde. This was unacceptable," Armand said.

"I was trying to be a gentleman. My wife…she was…You can guess," Ignacio responded.

"This wasn't completely unexpected, Ignacio. You will need to rein in your temper as far as your wife is concerned. You can't even claim disrespect on the office of Alcalde, which may come in handy if you yourself are disrespected. No one in the government will take your wife's honour seriously. She is an Indian, and if we were to consider this marriage…technically it isn't completely legal, Ignacio."

"It is. We were married in the cathedral in Monterey. We are married in the eyes of God, and that is what counts," Ignacio said sharply. "You were in the church. You saw and heard the ceremony."

Armand slowly shook his head. "According to the law, Indians do not have the same status as Spaniards. Legally they aren't the same as us. Someone in the office in Monterey compared your marriage to marrying your horse. Says you are crazy and should be cast out of office," Armand said. "It is not my opinion, but it is others."

"What can I do about it?"

"Don't cause trouble and don't use your wife as an excuse for violence," he answered.

"I was twice as violent and heartless years ago, and nothing was done back then," Ignacio murmured.

"The world is changing, Ignacio. The rules are changing. It may be best if you resign from your post, and begin to live quietly somewhere else."

"This is my pueblo, Armand. These people are being looked after now. Zorro has no need to visit the pueblo. Under a different Alcalde, we may indeed see the need arise for his involvement again. He is not always an easy man to deal with. Someone with less patience will upset the balance again. The Governor may well see a powerful outlaw emerge from the ashes of my term of office."

"Threats won't make this any easier."

"It's the truth. Zorro appears when he is needed, and right now he is not needed."

"Ignacio, I have yet to get you a wedding present," Armand said softly. Ignacio glanced at him in surprise. How had the conversation changed so dramatically?

"I want to give you a parcel of land. I wanted it myself for later in my career, but you may have need of it more than I. I will purchase another later down the track, if we decide to stay in California. I have an idea Spain may be a better option, especially as I raise my daughter."

"Land? What would I do with land?"

"It borders on the de la Vega land. You can raise cattle like they do, and provide the military with beef. There will always be a need for that. The de la Vegas will help you get started I'm sure. They have a soft spot for Gushing Stream."

"Diego always helps a hopeless case," Ignacio muttered. Now he would have to take orders from the man. It really was going to be unacceptable to live so close to the caballero.

"Gushing Stream may like the distance from the pueblo and the closeness to friends that actually respect her. I am giving it to you regardless if you want it or not, Ignacio." The Colonel placed a deed of ownership on his desk, and turned and left the room. "I will be at the Tavern, and I will see you at dinner, along with your beautiful wife."

"Yes, Colonel," Ignacio said softly. It was an order, and he accepted it as such.


	17. Reconnection

Reconnection

Ignacio tossed and turned alone on a single bed in the Tavern. Gushing Stream had barricaded the door against him, and he was concerned about her. She hadn't spoken to him all day, and she hadn't even come out of the room when she had heard Armand's deep voice. Maybe she was ill. He sat upright, and stared at the wall. Maybe she _was _ill. He swung himself off the bed, and got his shirt on. Sleeping shirtless for her comfort had become a habit, and he was doing it without thinking about it now.

Grabbing his jacket and struggling into his boots, he skipped quickly downstairs, and almost bumped into the silent dark form of Zorro. He stood in his way, and was absolutely silent for a moment.

"Get out of my way, Zorro," Ignacio said with a shove for emphasis. "If you want to be a big brother, get ready to fight. That's how it works."

Zorro shrugged, and put a boot on the stool to Ignacio's left.

Ignacio barged past him, and then turned. "As an only child, you really don't know it works, do you?"

"I've an idea," Zorro said softly.

"You are not half as frightening as you were. I know who you are now, and really Diego you're a joke," he responded. Those perfect white teeth appeared as the masked man grinned at him.

"Are you going to stand there shouting insults, or were you planning on going somewhere?" Zorro said softly. "I mean, I could challenge you but you seemed to be in a hurry a moment ago."

Ignacio felt like drawing his sword and lashing out at him, but then they would be there all night, and they both knew who the victor would be. It would be a complete waste of time, Ignacio realised with a surge of rage.

He kicked over a set of benches, and stormed out of the Tavern.

"You will need to sort that out, Ignacio," Zorro said after him, making his growl to himself with suppressed rage.

Zzzz

He paused at his office, and listened hard. He could hear the sound of a woman sobbing, and he moved slowly to his private room. He raised a hand, and knocked gently. He didn't want to try the door and find it locked, and he didn't want to try the door and just barge in on his wife.

"Gushing Stream," he said softly.

She was afraid, he realised. _Don't make me afraid_, she had said. Was she afraid of him? He had never raised his voice to her, not ever. He had never raised a hand to her, and he never would. She was afraid of him, because of the way he had treated Don Raphael. She was afraid because his anger would not cool enough to back down. She was afraid because she had not been able to reason with him. She was afraid because he had coolly calculated how to injure his opponent without hurting him too much – he had deliberately punished him callously and without mercy – he had wanted him to suffer and he had.

"Gushing Stream," he said again. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I love you. Please forgive me," he murmured through the door. He leant his forehead on the door. "Please try to believe me."

There was a soft sound, and the door opened. Her arms reached up to him, and he embraced his beloved gently. His mouth was on hers and they kissed each other desperately, even as he lifted her into his arms, and carried her to the bed.

Lying her down on the bed, he felt a surge of passion run through him. He glanced down at his perfect wife, dressed in her nightgown. The bulge where his child rested inside her was more prominent than he had remembered, and he sighed. There were so many things he wanted to do, but he would have to wait. He could control himself. He restricted his kisses to her face, her neck and her ear lobes. His hands wandered a little over her clothed body, and she moved under his touch.

She shivered in his arms, and he wrapped blankets over them both. He gave her a chance to take a breath from the kissing, and she smiled at him. His lips had tasted the bitterness of tears damp on her cheeks, and her eyes were red from weeping. His finger traced down her face, and he knew that this was everything he ever wanted, all he needed in life. If she needed him to stop reacting with so much anger, he would have to control himself. He could control his passion for his wife, for the baby's sake. Surely he could do likewise with his anger, for his wife's sake. She was a treasure worth protecting. Now he just needed to learn how to protect her from himself.

"I love you, Ignacio. I am so sorry," she murmured, as she snuggled her head close to his chest. "This is a hard world we live in, and hard things happen. I know that better than anyone," she whispered. "I just want it to stop."

"I know, my princess, I know," he murmured, and kissed her again until she was breathless next to him.

Zzzz

Ignacio woke, thinking it had all been a dream, but as he rolled over and opened his eyes, he found himself gazing at his wife. He smiled, she was still asleep, her arm only just now dislodged from his bare chest as he had rolled. She was beautiful.

He rolled to his back, and stared at the ceiling. Armand's warning was serious, he realised. The dinner hadn't gone so well, not without his wife accompanying him to the Tavern. Their conversation had been forced and stilted. It wasn't an ultimatum. Not yet anyway. It was a friendly suggestion made by a brother. It was a wise move, Ignacio thought to himself. He would have to discuss it with Gushing Stream, and he had told the Colonel that over their dinner.

"You still have a job, Alcalde. Just move carefully. I came more as a brother than a superior officer," Armand had said as he left the pueblo the previous afternoon.

He sighed. It would be a completely different life with completely different priorities and goals. A life of peace and tranquillity, he reasoned, and glanced at his wife. She had seen far too much heartache and pain, known too much violence in her life. She deserved peace and tranquillity. His children deserved that as well.

His hand reached out to touch her bulging abdomen, cautiously. His son or daughter lay under the skin, so close. A tiny movement pushed at his hand, and he felt a connection with his child. Was that a little hand? A foot? Did his child know that he was there? He was trying his best, he was. He feared it wasn't good enough. Deep down, he knew he wasn't good enough. He didn't deserve a peaceful life. He had earned himself so much guilt and deserved a lot of pain. He lived expecting it sometimes.

He will spoil it all within a few hours, if not days. There were so many racist people out in the pueblo. He had been one of them, and he knew the words that would be used. He needed to get away from the pueblo, and he needed to shelter his wife.

Sighing, he wondered what would happen. Would they be happy? Would he spoil it all? She hated violence so much, that she hated him when he sunk to that level. How could he keep her love?


	18. Ignacio's Rage

Ignacio's Rage

Ignacio woke much later in his wife's arms, and slowly got out of bed, and into a shirt. Buttoning up his red and blue jacket, he was deep in thought. The day was approaching when he would never wear the outfit again. The old goals of glory and prestige felt worthless in the light of this all-consuming love, but he wanted something for his family. His old goal of capturing Zorro was null and void and had been before the pardon had been issued.

Would he be a good farmer? It was worth a chance, he supposed. If it all failed and collapsed around them, his friends would support him. He would find another job somewhere. If it didn't fail, the chance to join a distinguished peer group was an attractive idea. To be on par with Diego, instead of a level behind in everything he did would be worth a little hard work.

He smiled at his sleeping wife. The pregnancy was beginning to look like it was in its latter stage, and confinement would be important soon. On a property outside the pueblo she could relax and venture outdoors much more than here in the town. Less judgemental people would venture out towards an estate and they could live in peace.

He had come to a decision, he realised, as he walked out of the room, making his way out to the Tavern. He had things to collect, and benches to right. He paused. The sun was quite high, and the benches would have already been dealt with. He shrugged. Sometimes Diego was wrong, he mused.

His long legs covered a couple of steps at a time as he raced to his single room that he had taken the night before. Some of his files had been left on the table near the bed, and even though they weren't confidential in any way, they were necessary for his work that day.

On his way back down, a slouching man in a dirty poncho lifted his head and spat in his direction. His reaction was immediate, and the man was flung against the wall, Ignacio's hands grasping the poncho.

"How dare you?"

"I'd do it again. Dirty Indian lover," he slurred. Ignacio thumped him hard against the wall again.

"You will pay for that," he growled.

"Alcalde?" Diego had risen to his feet and was watching him carefully, as Ignacio shoved him towards the lancers that had arrived in the Tavern for some breakfast. The men glanced at each other and caught the man as he stumbled forward.

"You, sir, are under arrest for assaulting a government official," Ignacio said, pointing a finger at the man. "Don Diego, if you wish to speak on this man's behalf you can spend some time in my jail as well."

Diego sat down, speechless.

Ignacio followed the lancers to the jail, and personally locked the cell door.

"You can't handle the truth, you bastard," the man said, spitting at him again. Ignacio toyed with the idea of having him hanged for a moment. He paced the small jail house and stared at the floor.

Gushing Stream would just get angry again if he did much to the man. It was an insult on his office now. Armand had said if his office was assaulted he would be legally right to defend it – so the governor would have no problem with harsh discipline in this matter. Gushing Stream would have a great deal to say. It wouldn't be so easy to explain it again, and to forgive him again for the same issue would be hard for the woman. He risked everything if he punished him at all.

Rage burned inside him and logic and reason seemed to leave him, as the man spat yet again, and one of his boots collected the spittle. He ground his teeth in an effort to maintain control over his emotions. Then he stormed out of the building and into his office.

He arranged his files absentmindedly as he struggled to keep control, his mind inventing various means of punishment verging on outright torture.

"Ignacio?" Gushing Stream ventured out of his private quarters and paused in his office. "Dona Victoria is collecting me in the carriage soon. We arranged a day together yesterday. I hope you don't mind me going?"

He smiled as he rose from his seat. It was good that she had a friend in the territory. It was not so good that it was Diego's wife – he would spend even more time with the man. Diego was getting suspicious and edgy lately. Diego had no love for violence either.

"Is Diego joining you both?"

"Diego is going to take us on a picnic. He knows a beautiful spot by the river," Gushing Stream said happily. "The little ones would love to be outside in the fresh air."

"Just make sure they don't fall in," Ignacio said with a smile. She smiled back. "You look like you have a great day ahead of you for the picnic. I hope you have a wonderful time," he murmured.

"You can't join us for lunch?"

"No, so much work to do, my love. I will be busy all day. You make sure you have a wonderful time," he said. She smiled, and when Dona Victoria came to the office door, she went out with her. He accompanied her to the carriage, kissing her hand and helping her in.

"Don't work too hard, Ignacio."

He smiled and watched them leave the pueblo until they were out of sight.

Then he went back to the jail house, and stared hard at his prisoner. He grinned stupidly back at him, and Ignacio knew what he would do.

He would have the man flogged. If he did it without his wife in the pueblo at the time, she would never know. If Diego was supervising his twins at the river, he would never have the time to prevent the flogging by showing up as Zorro. He could have his revenge without the consequences he disliked.

"You will be flogged for assaulting an officer of the crown, senor," he growled. "Sergeant Mendoza!"

There was a scramble of soldier feet, and the large man was saluting him to his right.

"Ready the flogging post, Mendoza. This man will feel the sting of my whip," he ordered.

"Alcalde, Zorro has never liked that. Should we be doing this?"

"Zorro is not yet Alcalde of this pueblo, Sergeant. It is nothing less than what this criminal deserves," Ignacio declared. "I am the Alcalde, do as you are ordered, Mendoza."

Mendoza dashed out, and Ignacio knew that he was already looking over his shoulder for the masked man. Ignacio smirked a little. Knowing who his adversary was made all the difference in the world. Neither Zorro nor Diego would prevent this act of justice.

He grabbed the shirt of the manacled man and dragged him to the flogging post, accompanied by the necessary lancers. He stood back while the lancers tied the man down, and stripped his shirt from his body.

"People of Los Angeles, this man assaulted an officer of the crown of Spain. He will receive just punishment for his crime. Note well, good people. No one will be permitted to assault my authority in this pueblo!"

Ignacio stood back and swung the whip. The man bit back the first couple of cries of pain, and then it became fun, as the criminal cried out in agony. No Zorro interfered this time. He watched the people in the plaza look around with expectation, but no one moved to stop him. He swung the whip a total of twenty times, before he felt recompensed. Then he left the man to his lancers, and returned to the office, smiling with the satisfaction of a job well done.


	19. Separation

Separation

Ignacio sat in the Tavern, and relished the fact that no one sat near him. It was like the early days of his reign, when the balance of power was yet to be disturbed by Zorro, when he still felt like he would win. It hadn't lasted very long, he remembered. He liked the feel of power flowing through his veins. It had been a long time since he had felt that surge of adrenalin, and he forgotten how much he had liked it. Pilar responded to his lunch order with her characteristic nervousness, and it seemed that the world was back under his thumb. He smiled, as he sipped his wine, savouring its flavour as he thought over the day's achievements.

The governor could not touch him. He had reacted for the sake of stable government, and no government official could fault his actions, otherwise it would question their own authority. A nagging doubt at the back of his head disturbed him, a query about how just he really had been. His young conscience was fussing, he supposed. It would be quelled in time.

How was he going to rule the pueblo and defend his wife without showing his authority in the pueblo? He needed to take a stand against crime in the town. If people stopped respecting him, he would not be able to do his job. The work of a struggling farmer had lost its promise, with the feeling of pure power. Gushing Stream was his wife. She would and could learn to tolerate what she must, eventually. She too would respect his power.

He wandered back to the office and fidgeted with files. The sun was going down steadily when he wondered where Gushing Stream was, and when she would be back. He glanced up, hearing a knock on the wooden door frame, and Diego stood in the doorway, glaring at him silently.

"Is my wife with you?"

"Should she be?"

Ignacio stood up, and stared at the tall man. Something in his manner disturbed him, but then again he was never truly comfortable in his presence.

"Where is she?" Ignacio asked.

"She is not coming home, Ignacio. You have gone too far," Diego said softly.

Ignacio stood up straighter. "What did you say?"

"She heard the news about the flogging, Ignacio. Why would you think she wouldn't? She is leaving you," Diego murmured.

"She can't leave me…" Ignacio said disbelieving Diego. "She's pregnant with my child."

"Nevertheless, she is leaving you."

"She is ill. Remember what she was like last time? Stop her, Diego. Tell her to come home," Ignacio said, his mind racing. He took a deep breath, to centre himself. His heart had sunk into his boots.

"She is welcome in my home until she finds her feet," Diego said sternly. "She is welcome to have the baby at my house and stay for as long as she likes. She is a great help to Victoria."

"No, Diego. She is my wife," Ignacio whispered.

"I'm sorry, but Gushing Stream is making herself sick over this whole mess, Ignacio. I don't blame her. What are you doing?"

"I have every right to defend my position as Alcalde," Ignacio said.

"Not by flogging a man half to death, Ignacio." Diego turned and left him to himself.

Ignacio was stunned, and he remained standing for a few moments, lost in thought. He should have thought of his wife, especially taking into account her fears. He should have remembered how the peons gossiped and how fast word got around the pueblo. It was his fault entirely. He had promised to do better. He had waited for the coast to be clear and deliberately planned his revenge, disregarding everything they had talked about. He had lost her, probably forever this time.

He wished Diego was still in the room, so that he could at least try to punch him. He wished he had drawn his sword, and at least threatened him with it, even though the man would probably disarm him immediately. He wondered why he had not reacted to the man's words at the time. The message had chilled him and sent him into a spin. He should have expected a spirited reaction from his lady. He had pushed the issue too far.

Would he lose her and his child? If Diego protected her in his hacienda at least she would be well taken care of, he tried to see the benefits of such a move. He could only see his own hurt and growing feelings of betrayal. She had left him immediately on hearing the news of his actions. He had not even had the change to explain himself. He had not even given his side of the story.

He loved her, he reminded himself. She was pregnant with his child. Surely he could at least be a gentleman and try to understand her wishes. She wanted to feel safe and protected from violent deeds, and he kept committing violent deeds. Of course she would feel threatened to be in the same space as him. He needed to resign while he still had a chance to change – to win her love back with hard work and dedication to a peaceful goal.

He drew out a piece of paper and began to draft some letters.

One letter was for Armand, one was for the governor himself. Another one would wait for a calmer moment and that one was for his wife.

Armand's letter was easy. It was a thank you letter, for the provision of the parcel of land. He fingered the deed that still lay on his desk, and knew he had to be serious about his resignation. Why had he totally returned to his old ways? Gushing Stream had refused to marry him initially because she had thought she would distract him away from reforming his pueblo. She had been right, completely right. She had only married him because she loved him so much that she talked herself around the issue. She had believed that she needed him and his love, above anything else. He had been distracted and influenced by the need to protect her from the injustices around them. He could no longer work in the pueblo, let alone run it.

The second letter was his resignation letter to the governor. He tentatively recommended Diego de la Vega, and as he did so, he wondered if it was from a sense of perverted vengeance, or from a genuine belief that he was capable of being a superb leader of the people. A bit of both, he realised after a moment's thought.

The third letter was a letter that needed a lot of thought. She would take a bit of time to consider what her next move would be. She was heavily pregnant and she knew her limitations. She knew her own mind, and that was the problem. She would respond only to pure logic and reason, and any attempt at sentiment would cause her to screw up the letter without considering the rest of the contents. He hesitated. The first line had to be perfect.

Sergeant Mendoza entered the room, knocking before entering.

"Alcalde, are you alright?"

"What is it, Sergeant?"

"It is bad to write without a light, Alcalde. Here, let me light the lamp," Mendoza said, lighting up the lamp in the corner. The room lost its shadows, and Ignacio realised he was peering down at a piece of paper he could hardly see, let alone write on.

"Can you get a lancer? I need to send some letters to Monterey," Ignacio said, looking up at the sergeant.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, sergeant. It appears I have lost the war," he whispered half to himself. "I'm resigning from my post, Mendoza."

The sergeant seemed startled, and was speechless. He nodded, and left the room hurriedly.


	20. Ignacio's Letter

Ignacio's Letter

Ignacio sat at his large desk for a long time before starting to write. After a few false starts, and screwed up, scrunched up paper thrown down on the floor in anger, he wrote Gushing Stream's letter.

_Dear Sarah,_

_Please excuse my writing; I may be pushing my limits in our friendship. The writing is shaky - my hands are trembling with cold._

_It sounds stupid, I know, but there is nothing I can truly say that will make any difference to how you feel about me. I make mistakes, I am who I am. I have never been a perfect man, and never came close to goodness before your friendship made me rethink my life. I was in the process of changing, but without you, there is no hope at all._

_I cannot do a great job of overseeing this pueblo. I never have been a great Alcalde, and I never will be. You can ask Diego de la Vega, and several others, if you think I am being self-deprecating. Believe me, I am less than a man. Without you, I have no chance at a good life. _

_As it is I am hereby resigning from the position of Alcalde of Los Angeles, as I feel incapable of rational leadership at this stage. Rest assured I will provide for my child's needs, and you will lack for nothing. I will provide a home for you both, so that you can live without fear. _

_Our letters have provided a link to your heart in the past. I would wish to continue our correspondence, even if we cannot continue to live together. _

_Please accept my apologies for being extreme in my actions recently. I have the responsibility until my resignation is accepted to maintain law and order in the pueblo. Some actions require more severe punishments than others, but I have acted out of hurt pride and arrogance over the last few days. I have disregarded your feelings, and run roughshod over your fears and wishes for peace. Forgive me if you can._

_I will always be,_

_Your Loving Husband_

_Ignacio De Soto._

He finished writing the letter, and looked up at the glowing lamplight. He was cold, and his hands were shaking, but it may have been more from shock than the cold. He sighed and stretched his hands, before rubbing them to get the circulation running faster.

He reread the letter, and wondered if it was alright to send to her. It seemed foolish and badly written, but it said all that was running through his mind. It said what he would say if she was standing in front of him right at that moment. He was tempted to screw the letter up completely and write another one, but it was as good as he would get it right now.

He sighed; she may never understand why he kept making a fool of himself. He didn't understand himself half the time, so why he thought she would was completely insane.

He sat in the glow of the lamp light, until he got so tired; he rested his eyes, leaning on his folded arms.

Zzz

He woke in the same position hours later, blinking in the light of dawn.

He stretched aching muscles, and listened to the silence in the building and the town. Was this all he could look forward to for the rest of his life? Exhaustion filled his entire body, and dulled his mind, and he wasn't sure what he could do anymore. He stared straight ahead and wondered why he bothered trying to reform himself. He was what he was. Why did he think he could be a better person? It was a lot harder than it looked, he realised. Habits of a lifetime were hard to break, even for the sake of a perfect woman.

He had survived without friends for too long, he realised. Now he had friends, he was failing all of them. He would lose everyone's respect and friendship if he continued down the path he had begun. He would try to change, but he was already trying. He had the love of his soul mate, and was losing it. It had made no difference. He was still evil by nature. He could not deny the taste of power had gone straight to his head as if it was some sort of rare champagne. It had clouded his judgement, and he had forgotten what he had gained from doing what was right.

A young lancer cautiously entered his office to collect the letters and hand deliver them to his recipients. Ignacio held the letter for his beloved in his hands as if trying to hold on to her, and the lancer hesitated.

"Alcalde, do I take the other letter as well?" The young man asked clearing his throat nervously. Ignacio noticed how the man's hands shook a little as he reached out to take the paper, and then withdrew it quickly as if unsure.

"Yes, this one is personal and goes to the de la Vega hacienda. It goes first," Ignacio said softly. He noticed the trembling in his lancer's hands didn't stop, as he handed him the letter, and stared at the young man, making him even more nervous.

"Do I wait for a reply, Alcalde?" The young man asked trying to make sure he did exactly what was expected of him. He seemed unwilling to be substandard in any way.

Ignacio shook his head slowly, and waved him away. The man saluted and was out the door as if he was running for his life. Was the man that frightened of his commanding officer? He hoped not.

He sighed and paced his office, and decided to arrange someone to deliver his meagre belongings to the hacienda on his new estate. His belongings were mainly clothes and books, with a few trinkets and pictures on the walls. He would pack Gushing Stream's clothes and belongings as well, and if necessary he would have them delivered immediately to the de la Vega hacienda. As Armand had said, it was not far from where he was going to live.

He would wait to discover the outcome of his letters in the peace of his empty house. Armand had assured him that it was fully furnished, but the style may or may not be to his taste. He could not care less what it was like. It would be his sanctuary for a few days, or a few weeks. If he had to he could sell it, and return to Spain with the proceeds. His uncle and cousins might work together to find him suitable employment in Madrid.

He used to miss the familiar comforts of the great city. Madrid, where all the beautiful girls lived and danced, and the parties and the wine went on forever. How he had missed the place when he first arrived in the dust bowl of California. He had only one goal back then. Get rid of the pest known as Zorro, and return as a hero.

So much for goals and dreams. He would return to Spain, but as a broken man, not a hero. His chances of a good post would be meagre, but someone would slot him somewhere, even if only to tease him with hard and boring office work.

He didn't want to, he realised. He didn't long for the streets of Madrid or his old comrades as he used to. He longed for the sweet embrace of his beautiful wife, and the touch of her lips on his. Things that he may have lost forever.


	21. A Stranger in Town

A Stranger in Town

Ignacio sat at his desk deep in thought. A lancer had taken his belongings to the new hacienda already, but he was not ready to leave his office yet. He had not completely accepted that he had resigned. It had been a rushed decision, and he was not sure he was completely happy with it. He knew it was the best option for him, but it felt strange to just leave.

Sergeant Mendoza brought him a plate of stew and placed it in front of him. He didn't look up at the man for a few moments.

"Alcalde…" He looked up at the soldier, startled by the use of his title.

"I mean, Senor De Soto, I think you should eat something," Mendoza said, indicating the food in front of Ignacio.

"I'm not hungry," he murmured, pushing the plate away slightly. He considered the man for a moment. The sergeant was fidgeting and putting off something. Mendoza was obviously stalling for some reason. His curiosity was sparked. "You seem agitated, Sergeant."

"There is a stranger in town, and he is asking about the Alcalde," Sergeant Mendoza said. "I wasn't sure what to tell him. You said you have resigned, so you aren't the Alcalde anymore."

Ignacio glanced towards the door and shrugged. "I haven't yet heard back from Monterey, Sergeant. Officially my resignation has not been accepted yet. If you want me to deal with this man, I will," he murmured. Mendoza seemed very relieved. Ignacio wondered about the stranger, and rose to his feet.

"Tell him, I will meet him. I have time right now, Sergeant."

"Yes, Alcalde," Mendoza said thankfully. He rushed out of the room, and was back almost immediately.

The man was a stranger. He was average looking, and dressed in a moderate style that suggested moderate means, not a don, but not a peon either. He turned and Ignacio noticed red scars that traced down the left side of his face, three straight lines that ran from near his eye to down to his chin. It made the man look decidedly different, and introduced an element of suspicion in Ignacio's mind.

"What can I do for you?" Ignacio said softly. The man smiled, and his teeth were dirty and chipped as if he had been in many fights during his life. Ignacio stared at his face for a while, trying to place him. He reminded him of an outlaw, someone he couldn't name. Perhaps he was just starting out in the outlaw business and hadn't made a name for himself yet. He seemed a very dangerous man. Other scars covered his face, but none came close to the scar on his left cheek. His nose had been repeatedly broken.

Ignacio was suddenly glad to be leaving the business of running the pueblo. They did attract a lot of strange and angry, dangerous men. He could now leave it to someone else, and live in peace with no more problems other than getting cattle raised and to market.

"I hear that there is an Indian lady in the pueblo," the man said. Chills ran down his back, and Ignacio stared at the man once more.

"There are a lot of Indian women in this pueblo," Ignacio said carefully. "It would be hard to single out one of them."

"I said Indian 'lady'. I'm sure you know what I mean. You are Ignacio de Soto?"

"What if I am?"

"Your Indian lady is a whore and a murderess," the man said. Ignacio bit his lip, and looked away. He would not respond to mere words any more. Responding inappropriately to insults had cost him too much already.

"I insist that you leave my office immediately. I would advise that you leave the pueblo at your earliest convenience," Ignacio said with a frustrated sigh. "Mendoza!"

"Si, mi Alcalde," the sergeant said with a rush of feet and a hurried salute.

"See that this gentleman leaves my office right now, and escort him to the boundary fence of the town," Ignacio ordered, trying not to look at the stranger.

"My name is Enrique Almagro. I know what I am saying, senor. If you will not listen to me, so be it. I have a score to settle with the lady, let her know I am in the territory, if you wish. It will not stop me from catching her again."

"You are mistaken, Senor. My lady is Sarah De Soto, and not the lady you seek. If you offer any physical violence, you will be punished to the full extent of the law," Ignacio replied, and watched with satisfaction as the sergeant obeyed a little more forcefully than he would have.

Ignacio stared after the man for a moment, and then left the office.

In the Tavern, people stopped talking as he entered. He spotted Diego sitting by himself in his usual corner. He hadn't realised before that Diego's normal seat gave him a great view of the whole Tavern and the street immediately in front. Diego had noticed his visitor and the way Enrique Almagro had been dealt with.

"Who was that nasty piece of work, Ignacio?"

"Someone who is threatening my wife," Ignacio replied. "It is her brother in law. She was married once before. Her husband died in a drunken accident, and Enrique Almagro blames her and her Indian identity for it."

"Tell me," he said, taking a deep breath. "Am I allowed to defend my wife's life? I am a little confused with the problems I am bringing on myself, senor."

"There is no need to be stupid, Ignacio." Diego frowned with exasperation and folded his arms resolutely. Ignacio sighed, and glanced away. Diego never responded to emotional outbursts. The man was a living breathing reference book most of the time. At least Zorro had a bit more in common with him than the frowning gentleman in front of him, Ignacio thought - even if he was the same man underneath the black mask.

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Is she alright?"

"She is how she is, senor." Diego sighed. "I waited for an hour to watch how you would treat that man, Ignacio. I left the pueblo believing that you would do nothing extreme, and that the man in your custody would be fined and released, and as soon as the dust cleared you did something very extreme," he said softly. "You knew my plans for the day, and acted accordingly. I thought we were at least allies, Ignacio. I thought the pueblo was safe in your hands."

Ignacio sighed. "Have a tamale," Diego said after a moment. "You look half starved."

Ignacio shook his head.

"What can I do? You are a clever man, Diego. Tell me what I can do to help my wife. I love her and I want to fix these problems I have caused."

"How long will it be before you explode under pressure again?"

"I have resigned from my post, as of a letter I sent the other day," Ignacio said, and almost laughed at the shock in the other man's face.

"She means that much to you, Ignacio?"

"I would die for her. I should live for her, and if this job is making me into a monster, then I need to give it up. A better man than I should run this town," Ignacio said. "I gave them your name as a suggestion."

"Thanks," Diego said, with a sarcastic smirk.

The men stared around the pueblo as if scanning for trouble, Ignacio turning in his seat for a better view.

"There is something you can do. I want you to come to lunch today, and we can all talk together about how to fix things. This change of life style may go very well for you. What do you plan to do?"

"Armand has gifted me land, the small parcel bordering your estate," Ignacio said.

"You are full of surprises today, Alcalde."

"It's large enough to raise a herd of cattle, to provide meat for the troops," Ignacio said softly. "It's not big enough to truly compete against your stock, but Armand was thinking you could assist me in setting up. For Gushing Stream's sake," he added.

"I could," Diego murmured, half to himself. "Sounds interesting."

Ignacio was silent. Diego would take him on as a project, and he would have to endure the man for many weeks, and probably years. It sounded difficult.


	22. Mediation at the de la Vegas

Mediation at the de la Vegas

Ignacio sat across from Diego at the dining table, and the men watched each other carefully. Ignacio was getting sick of the other man's dominance over his life. It had been going on for far too long, and it had to stop eventually. Diego was three years younger than him, for goodness sake. He had completed college, and Diego had not. Surely that meant something.

Natural talent had taken the young man far, he supposed. With a father like Don Alejandro, people would expect his military skills to be very advanced, but on the outside, many were disappointed in the boy. He seemingly had the brilliance of his mother, who was a notable woman in her own right. Brilliance wasn't always accepted by the majority, and Ignacio had felt a little sorry for Don Diego in the past. Now, he just felt dominated and insecure around the man.

Victoria and Gushing Stream entered the room. It was all very unconventional, but Ignacio accepted it. The men rose and Ignacio helped his wife into the chair next to Diego, before returning to his own seat.

"Ignacio, what do you want to say?"

Ignacio glared at Diego. He was glad that Alejandro wasn't there to laugh at the situation. Diego shrugged and interlaced his fingers, resting his elbows on the table.

Ignacio took his eyes off Diego. It wasn't Diego's business, none of it was.

"Gushing Stream, I am so sorry for creating a violent environment for you and it will stop."

"Will it?" She whispered, her face so pale it was almost white again. He cursed himself silently for bringing her back to the level he had found her in on the streets of Monterey. It had been his fault then, and it was his fault now. She shouldn't have to deal with the fear that obviously drove her to run.

"It will end, because I have resigned from my post as Alcalde. We don't have to interact in that social environment any more. We can choose who we socialise with. We will only socialise with people who respect both of us." Ignacio saw a light come on in her eyes. It was a pity that the only people who seemed or pretended to respect both of them were the de la Vegas. He would just have to put up with it, until it got easier, he supposed.

"You resigned?" She murmured. Her hands fluttered nervously, and he longed to hold them and calm her. She seemed so far away.

"Armand de Cipriana has given us a gift of land for our wedding present, my princess."

"I am not your princess, Ignacio. We don't live in a child's fairy tale. You are not going to seduce me again," she murmured, and he could see hurt anger flicker into her eyes.

He stared down at the table top, and swallowed with difficulty. Had he lost her?

"I want something more than promises, and apologies, Ignacio. I want you to truly protect me, and not just talk about it. Broken promises and false apologies will not save us." her voice continued. It was firm and insistent. "I love you, but I can't live with violence surrounding me. I can't live with a man who ignores my fears and manipulates me. I have lived with a man who treated me like an animal, and he did things like that."

Ignacio glanced up at her pale face, and was trapped in her deep brown eyes. She gave him a tentative smile, and sighed. She could not look away from him, he realised. He wondered if she was trapped in his blue eyes for a moment. He needed her to want him back in her life. He wasn't sure if he could survive without her.

"On our property, we could raise cattle, just like the de la Vegas. If we work hard enough, maybe we will be wealthy people," Ignacio said softly. "The property is right next to the de la Vega ranch, and we could see them every day. We don't ever need to see another person ever again," he added.

"That's irrational, Ignacio," Diego said softly. "You will need to buy supplies, and interact with buyers for the cattle. They may insult your wife at some stage."

She was looking at him, questions in her eyes. Questions of his own bounced in his mind, making him pause to think.

"That stranger in town, Diego. I had the lancers deal with him. Surely that shows I controlled myself, and that I could do so again."

"You had to deal with more hateful words?"

"They are just words, Gushing Stream, as you said before. Just words," Ignacio said softly. "I could have done something more than just ejected him from my office and town." A thought at the back of his mind prompted him to consider if he should have. "Words may hurt me, but I am strong. I can endure some pain in my life." He knew he had to endure the pain of being constantly defeated by a better opponent, namely Zorro. He had learnt to put up with some of it.

She relaxed a little, and Diego glanced at her and shrugged. "I want to talk to you, Ignacio."

Ignacio glanced up at the man as he rose to his feet. He wasn't sure what he meant, until he gestured to the door. Ignacio rose and bowed to the ladies, and followed him.

Ignacio followed him all the way out into the yard.

"What do you want to talk about, Diego?"

Diego was silent as he struggled to think. He frowned and glanced down at the dirt.

"Ignacio. I don't think you are truly worthy of the lady. I don't think you can keep your temper. Not for a moment. You are a weak and cowardly man," Diego said.

Ignacio reacted to him instantly, his hand was on his sword hilt, and he realised the truth of the man's words as the sword left its scabbard. It was at Diego's throat before he managed to catch himself.

Diego stood perfectly still, as Ignacio took a deep breath to steady himself. Ignacio lowered his sword and laughed to himself, turning away from the man.

"If you want to take it out on me, go ahead. Reveal to the world the man you really are," Diego said, his eyes flashing as if he was in costume already. "I am completely unarmed, as was the man you flogged the other day."

"Stop it, Diego." Ignacio took a few steps back. "I won't fall for that test."

"You already did," Diego said.

Ignacio threw his rapier onto the ground and frowned at it as if it had turned into a snake.

"Help me, Diego. Don't just lecture me to do better. Don't skulk around being the town's guardian angel and avenger. I need help, and all you can offer me is further punishment."

Diego stared at him in confusion for a moment, and Ignacio's sense of pride completely left him.

"I am lost – completely and utterly lost. My life is in turmoil and I can do nothing at all to stop it crashing around me and crushing the life out of me. We are allies, sure. We are allies, so treat me as one. I am not your younger brother. I am not a child. Together we could become stronger, and defend this pueblo as it should be defended. If I can't do it as an Alcalde anymore there must be something I can do. This place has taken years of my life, and it has grown on me. I could have requested a transfer away from here, but I can't leave."

Diego was silent. Ignacio sighed. "I am going to go to my new hacienda. You know where it is," he said. "Let me know if my wife needs anything. I can set up something to provide her with money. If I enquire with Armand maybe I can get my old job back or a transfer, if she can't live with me. I will never forget her, but somehow I have to get my life back in order."

"Ignacio." He turned at the sound of his name. "I am coming with you. Give me a moment to get my things together." Gushing Stream was standing near the doorway. He glanced from Diego to his wife's departing figure, and wondered for a moment.

"Do you think I'd really say those things?" Diego said. Ignacio was a little startled at the level of humour in his voice.

"You think those things."

"Do I?" Diego said softly. "It was a test, Ignacio. Maybe you passed."

"Well, you took a chance. You are unarmed, and I could have cut your throat…"

"Since when have you ever landed a blow on me?"

Ignacio hesitated at the confident gleam in Diego's eyes. "I would have used that rake over there, that flower pot, and probably pushed you against the wall, over there. You wouldn't have gotten very far."

"The throat?"

"Hardly a sensible move, but it is your style. Sorry, it's true. You are completely predictable, Ignacio," Diego murmured. "I would have ducked out of your way if you were serious in your intent."

Ignacio was amazed by the man for a moment. "I'd like some lessons one day," he said. He couldn't think of anything else to say. "Thank you, I think." Diego bowed, and smiled a little.


	23. Fears and Concerns

Fears and Concerns

Diego strode through to the library where Ignacio was waiting nervously for his wife to reappear with her meagre possessions.

"Are you going to goad me again, Diego? I really am exhausted from all this turmoil," Ignacio said softly. "I prefer it if the teasing stopped for a while."

"I was going to ask about that man…. Almagro? You said he was after Gushing Stream?"

"He's a windbag, Diego. If he was a violent man he would have at least threatened me personally."

"He is going after your wife, I'd consider that a personal threat."

"So now you are telling me I should have responded to him." Ignacio felt a little exasperated. Could he do nothing right in the man's eyes?

"No," Diego said thoughtfully. "We don't know the man. He could be just talk, and nothing else. He could also be a dangerous threat."

"Should I ask Gushing Stream about him?"

"It wouldn't do to frighten her. She is shaky already, and this baby is probably arriving any day. You would be welcome to stay together in the hacienda."

"I think you shouldn't offer invitations without your father's permission, especially where I am concerned, Diego."

Diego nodded with a sigh. Alejandro hadn't even begun to warm to him in any way. It was good that the man was away in Monterey on business. The elder de la Vega would never be completely calm in Ignacio's presence.

"I am worried. The man looked dangerous. He acted under control, but the words I heard in the Tavern were nasty," Diego murmured. "Don't mention it to your wife. She doesn't need any more strain."

"What do you think we should do?"

"I will keep a scout around the district, but concentrate on the local area surrounding our estates, starting right now. This time you may get your guardian angel."

"Don't leave it too late, Zorro. I'd rather not have to be avenged."

Diego smiled, and stood taller, and Ignacio saw him transform just a little as he watched. Zorro stood before him minus his cape and mask. Diego's studious manner was gone, and his ally was standing before him.

"I'll try my best."

"We're ready, Diego," Victoria called, and the spell was broken. Diego stood there once more, with his serious frown for Ignacio and his bright smile for his wife. A workman carried Gushing Stream's middle sized bag, and the gentlemen escorted their ladies outside.

Ignacio helped his wife into the buggy and turned to shake hands with his host.

"Diego, I don't know quite what happened here today, but I think I need to thank you."

"Ignacio, I believe that you have great potential," Diego said. "I think you made the best decision, don't second guess yourself. Stay away from as many people as you can for a while. Just relax with your wife for a few days. I am buying new cattle next week myself, and I will show you the ropes."

"Thank you," Ignacio said, wondering why the man sought to encourage him.

Ignacio climbed into the driver's seat and took the reins.

"Be careful," Diego cautioned, making sure that the ladies couldn't hear him. "I'll be watching your back, but any physical violence needs to be dealt with, regardless. That includes this Almagro or you. Zorro is back on full duty."

"Of course."

Ignacio glanced at the other man, who stood tall but with concern in his blue eyes. If Zorro was worried, he was too.

Zzz

The sun shone down brightly, and the horse was well behaved for Ignacio. He prided himself on his horsemanship skills, but the truth was it all depended on the horse.

"Look at the flowers, Ignacio!" Gushing Stream exclaimed as they followed the road, getting nearer to their actual hacienda. He wondered whether it rivalled the de la Vegas for size and comfort.

"Yes, very nice," he said, glancing at the pink flowers blossoming beside the road. "We could grow a garden of them around the hacienda if you like." He would prefer it if she didn't become engrossed in hanging geraniums like Diego seemed to be. He had narrowly missed knocking his head against pots several times in his short stay at the house.

"Ignacio. I was very proud of you with Diego in the yard. You were so very controlled."

Ignacio smiled to himself. She hadn't seen the initial reaction then, when the sword had been at Diego's throat, and he was pleased. "I am trying. You know about the test beforehand?"

"Yes," she said. He could imagine her blush, and knew she was embarrassed without turning around.

"I needed to wake up to myself. I am a very angry man, Gushing Stream. For most of my life, I have had to survive using anger to sustain me. It's hard to give it up."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"I shouldn't try to force you to do as I wish. If it is difficult, I should help you. I am your wife. I should help you, even if I am afraid."

He knew that was one of the reasons he loved her so much. She did have courage under fire if necessary. It just hurt her to be so frightened, and she was so vulnerable. Pregnant women always seemed to be such mysteries, and husbands were right to shelter them from the harsh realities of the world around them, especially close to when the baby was due.

"If you are afraid to be around me, you should say so," he said. "I want you to feel safe. I want you to be happy. I don't hurt people for fun," he said, lying a little. "It's to keep you safe and happy."

"I wasn't afraid of you, Ignacio. I knew that you wouldn't hurt me," she said in a voice that soothed and quietened his soul.

"I know," he murmured, a little relieved all the same.

The buggy gave a little strange shudder, almost unnoticeable. Something wasn't right, he realised. It should be stable enough- he'd had it in for repairs several days ago. The carriage had all been checked.

"What was that?" Gushing Stream asked, a little alarmed.

Ignacio scanned the wheels briefly and then more thoroughly, glancing under the body of the carriage from his seat – leaving the horse to its own devices for a few moments. One of the large wheels was wobbling, and he frowned.

A sharp retort of a pistol went off close by. Without his firm hand on the reins, the horse panicked and bolted.

As Ignacio struggled to soothe the horse, and calm the situation, he noticed the wheel at the corner of his eye. It was wobbling out of control. There was a snap. The axle had snapped, he reasoned, realising in that moment that there was no saving them from a serious high speed accident. He dove towards his wife, seeking to shield her from a hard impact, completely abandoning the reins. Landing next to her, he gathered her into his arms.

The buggy lurched and tipped, and he braced himself, shielding her from the ground as best he could. He felt the rush of adrenalin as the world spun out of control, and then there was darkness.


	24. After the Crash

After the Crash

Ignacio woke with difficulty, and his hand quickly went to his head. His head hurt and was still spinning. He felt blood, and groaned a little. Getting to his hands and knees, he glanced around. Where was she? Was she alright? Had he helped her? Was she dead?

He saw her lying not far away from him, and he crawled towards her slowly. He felt weak and dizzy but he was slowly coming back to his full senses. He touched her gently.

"Gushing Stream," he murmured. He stared at her face, and was relieved that he must have prevented some of the impact. There was no blood on her at all. She gave a little moan, and her eyes flickered open. He sighed with relief, and sunk to the ground next to her. He just needed to rest for a moment. Her hand reached for him and he held it firmly.

"Are you alright?" She whispered, just as he was trying to find the same words.

"I think so," he murmured. She was staring at him, and pulled herself into a side lying position to look more closely at his head.

"You're bleeding," she said, her voice catching a little. "Not…not too badly," she added, taking a deep breath. "Any pain anywhere else? Don't lie to me."

"Not sure yet. The wind was knocked out of me," Ignacio said honestly. He helped himself to his feet, wearily. "Stay there for a moment. Please," he added, watching her try to do the same. He scanned the environment. His instincts were urging him to do something, and he remembered the pistol shot. Standing made him a little clearer in the head, but he found he had to put a hand on the upturned buggy to catch his balance.

Something wasn't right. He had honoured that flash of intuition in the buggy and it had probably saved both of their lives. He'd had a moment to brace himself and Gushing Stream. He scanned the horizon, and worried about the lack of cover. If he had to fight he would want her hidden. Diego had said that he was doing patrols this afternoon. He wondered where he was. Not out of an impatient need, but out of curiosity.

There was a shrill scream from behind him. Gushing Stream!

"No Enrique!" She sounded petrified.

He whirled around, and this time when he drew his sword he felt good about it.

"Ignacio! Help me!"

Enrique was trying to force Gushing Stream up and drag her somewhere. She was terrified. He approached him, and hoped the man would fight and not stop to think about his advantage.

Some men would simply put a knife to the lady's throat and simply drag her away. Ignacio would have no choice but to let him. He had met men like that before.

It turned out that Enrique was stupid. He pushed her roughly to the ground, and drew his own sword. Ignacio didn't bother saluting and neither did his opponent. The swords clashed violently, and with such force that Ignacio could feel the impact shudder through his bruised body, reminding him physically that he had just endured a carriage accident.

"Get to safety as quickly as you can," Ignacio shouted to his wife, and blocked another blow. She glanced at him with fear in her eyes, and then scampered off towards the road. He hoped she would get to Zorro and be safe under his protection. He lunged at his opponent but was effortlessly blocked.

He contented himself with simple moves and tried to gauge the level of his opponent. Enrique was not a great swordsman. Ignacio would beat him easily in a fair fight. The carriage accident had been staged for Enrique's advantage. He was not completely stupid, he realised. Enrique had hoped to kill them both in the high speed crash, but had only succeeded in making Ignacio dizzy. Several options began to present themselves to Ignacio. He had been practising sword skills for years with a master tutor in Mexico City, and he had been something of a prodigy in Madrid.

He was tired and he would have to act on his options quickly. The dizziness was making his balance falter a little. What was that gambit that Zorro always used? He had no idea. Zorro was far too advanced to use as a reference point in any situation. He would just have to cope with what he could do, on his own.

Ignacio managed to regain his balance, even though the man used the dizziness to his advantage, and drove him to the ground a few times. He felt he was being played with, and maybe he was, because if he had been his opponent he would have finished him easily. It began to anger him, and spur him on, even when he realised some of his aches were increasing in intensity.

Adrenalin came to his aid, as he concentrated on what he was really fighting for. Gushing Stream was his real target and he needed to give her time to reach somebody, before Enrique finished with him. He wasn't fighting for his own life, which was probably at stake. He was fighting for her life. That was what made all the difference. His anger was contained and stored at the back of his head. He couldn't be disadvantaged in any way. Not when her life was on the line.

Strength flooded back to his body and his sword skills came instinctively. The clash of steel on steel wasn't a concern anymore. He wanted the man stopped, and if that meant killing him, so be it. He advanced, stepping forward more times than backwards. He was pushing the man away from the accident site, and he was satisfied. He hoped at the back of his head, that she had left to go for help. If he made a mistake, and was defeated, she would be next.

He fought a lot stronger, and more intensely than he had ever fought in his life. He hoped that the sound of steel on steel would bring help in itself, but it was an isolated stretch of land. Sound carried a long way over the plains near Los Angeles, and that knowledge gave him even more hope. Zorro was at large somewhere.

"No!" There was a terrified scream, and the retort of a pistol. Gushing Stream?

He whirled, and noticed Enrique had frozen to the spot as well. She lay in a crumpled mess on the ground behind him, not moving. He couldn't breathe for a moment, and Enrique recovered from the shock before he did. The man advanced while Ignacio's back was turned, and he whirled around to defend himself, and his rapier went straight into the other man. They looked at each other in shock, and then Ignacio pushed the sword harder into the man's body. He pushed it with all his strength and removed the sword. He was not Zorro. He preferred the man dead.

Zorro was there next to him, looking down at the dead man at their feet and sighed. Ignacio stood where he was and glanced back at his wife.

Zorro was the first one to move, making his way quickly to the lady's side. He cradled Gushing Stream's head, and felt for a pulse and breathing. Ignacio could hardly breathe, and sank onto his knees, his hand still holding his sword. It became a support, and he clung to it.

Zorro had turned to him and was speaking but he couldn't hear him. He stared at him for a moment, and shook his head. Zorro repeated it.

"She's not dead, Ignacio."


	25. The Ordeal

The Ordeal

"She's not dead, Ignacio."

She opened her eyes, and Ignacio realised he had been staring at her face the whole time. He saw her eyes staring at his sword, and Ignacio suddenly realised that the blade was completely covered in Enrique's blood. He shrugged. She lifted up a pistol that she still clutched in her hands, and smiled a little. He managed to struggle back to his feet using the blood stained sword as a crutch for a moment, before flinging it towards the buggy. He made his way to her, stumbling a little.

Zorro glanced around, getting to his feet to check the whole scene for other outlaws.

Ignacio took the pistol out of her hands, with a little difficulty and threw it towards the sword.

"I can't say anything this time, can I?"

"Why not?" Ignacio said softly. "I didn't have to kill him."

"Yes you did. He would never have left us alone, somehow he would have made our lives impossible," Gushing Stream said firmly. Her breath caught and he ran his hands over her gently, checking to see where she was hurt. He hadn't had a chance to assess her for injuries after the accident. She was pregnant. Her hand moved towards her stomach area, and he watched her face for pain. An injury down there where the baby was would be unacceptable. The baby could die.

He located the injury with his eyes. Blood was seeping slowly out of a firm bandage tied to her arm. Zorro had applied it automatically, it was made of black silk, he noticed.

She drew in her breath again, and he looked at her carefully.

"Are you alright?" He said stupidly. Of course she wasn't alright. She had taken a shot in the arm. Nevertheless she was nodding. He noticed her hand clench near her stomach, and he stared at her eyes for a moment.

"The man on the hill," she murmured. "He…he would have…shot you."

"You are in pain, somewhere," Ignacio said softly. "You can't lie to me."

"It's alright, Ignacio." She took a deep breath, and held it a little too long for his comfort. He glanced towards Zorro who was returning from making a quick sweep of the area.

"There is a dead man on the rocky outcrop, up there," Zorro indicated softly. "I think there were two shots fired simultaneously."

"Her shot killed him?" Zorro shrugged at Ignacio's question.

"She saved your life, I am almost certain. He was positioned for a great shot of your back during the last couple of moments of the fight."

They glanced down at her, and noticed that she had paled again. She was staring into space, and then shut her eyes as if in agony.

"Are you alright?" It was Zorro's turn to sound stupid, Ignacio realised with a slight smile. He was becoming desperately worried for his wife. She wasn't communicating with them well.

"The baby?" Zorro's voice died in his throat. She glanced at him, and suddenly Ignacio could see utter terror in her eyes. He gathered her up in his arms, and held her for a moment.

"What do we do?" Ignacio said, looking at the man in black. Zorro glanced at the buggy, and realised it was absolutely hopeless to expect to transport the woman anywhere.

"We can't do much," Zorro murmured. He glanced at Gushing Stream, questioningly.

Ignacio couldn't imagine what questions to ask, but he knew that Gushing Stream had helped his sister give birth. She must know something.

"What do we do, Gushing Stream?"

"Hot water, and blankets," she murmured, and then stiffened. Zorro was looking at her stunned for a few moments, before Ignacio pushed him.

"Hot water and blankets, Zorro. I can't, she needs me."

Zorro grabbed a blanket from the buggy and tossed it over to Ignacio, who paused with it. He awkwardly draped it around his wife. She was shaking, he noticed.

"We need to get her back to the hacienda," Ignacio said softly.

"How do we do that? It's not as if the buggy is serviceable."

Ignacio sighed. Somehow they had to work together. His wife's life, his baby's life was on the line. They were isolated, and had no idea what they were doing.

Zorro looked at him. "There is nothing for hot water. There's no containers."

"How does this work, Gushing Stream?"

"I will have to have the strength to push the baby out," she said through clenched teeth. "It's going to hurt a lot, and I'm going to scream. Very loudly, very soon."

"What's the hot water for?"

"To clean everything up…" She said with frustration. She let out a scream, and reached for him. The grip on his hand was bone shattering, and he was surprised.

"Don't let her hold too tightly," Zorro said softly. "You might not have a hand soon."

Now he tells me, Ignacio thought.

"It's alright. You're strong. You'll be fine," Ignacio said, glancing at Zorro's face, while his other hand took some of the pressure as well.

"You take the other hand," Ignacio said softly. "If she needs to hold onto something tight, then let's give her something to hold onto."

Zorro nodded, and offered her a gloved hand to squeeze.

She was taking a breath and glanced at them with confusion. "What are you doing?"

"Tell us what to do," Zorro murmured.

"What do other women do when you help another woman?" Ignacio said, stumbling on the idea he was trying to communicate. Surely they didn't sit around holding hands?

"Hot water and blankets," she murmured, as they lost her to pain again. She groaned and screamed, and the pressure increased on their hands.

Zorro glanced at him with concern. Ignacio was wondering about the hot water. Hot water was for washing, wasn't it? Blankets were for warmth, right?

"This is happening…way too fast," she murmured softly when she could speak again. "The pains are meant to come in a pattern….ah….a regular pattern."

"A pattern," Zorro said. If there was science to the whole thing, Zorro would soon have the matter in hand, Ignacio thought.

"How far apart are the pains?" Zorro asked. Gushing Stream was in no condition to answer him. Ignacio glanced at him.

"Pretty close. A few minutes, obviously."

What did the pattern mean? Ignacio shook his head. Zorro was frowning trying to think.

"The closer the pains together, the closer the baby?"

Gushing Stream screamed, long and high pitched, and the men shuddered. She closed her eyes and sagged against them, and they realised she was half sitting up supported by their arms. Ignacio gazed down at her for a moment.

"Gushing Stream?" He shook her gently. Was she breathing?

"I can't do this. I'm not strong enough. I'm sorry," she was murmuring, and she repeated it over and over again.

"She's gone mad?" Ignacio asked Zorro, thinking he might know something.

"Who knows?"

"You can do this," Ignacio said. "You are strong enough. You are so strong," he insisted, trying to get her to focus back on what she was doing. "You can do this. You are so strong."

She gazed at him for a moment. "I love you, Ignacio."

"Try a little more. It's so close. The baby is so close," he murmured. "Just endure a little more, and our baby will be here."

She nodded, and seemed to gather strength.

With a few more pushes, it was clear that the child would soon be born. Ignacio sat firm and resolute and repeated the encouraging words as much as he needed to, and she decided to meet the challenge with strength just as he knew she would.

The baby was born, almost into Ignacio's arms. It was slippery and covered in slime, but after a shocked silence, the baby cried. While Ignacio picked it up carefully and cradled it, Zorro removed his own black silk cape and sliced it in half, providing a very unconventional baby blanket. Zorro wrapped the baby tightly, before laying it in Gushing Stream's arms.

"Well," Gushing Stream said, after a moment of investigating her child's tiny hands and nose and face. "What is it, boy or girl?

The men looked at each other, each expecting the other to have checked. They laughed at each other, realising that neither of them had thought to check to see if it was a boy or a girl. No one was going to undo the baby's blanket to find out now, not until the doctor was there to check both mother and child.

Zorro was the first one composed enough to talk. "I will go to fetch Hernandez, Ignacio. I don't feel confident in travelling with her on horseback. I will set a fire to keep the cold at bay, and you can stay here with your family. I won't be long."

"Can you believe your father, little one? He doesn't even have the sense to check who you are," Gushing Stream said, her eyes twinkling.

"It was a very stressful situation, my princess."

"I could never have done it without you, Ignacio. You saved me."

He draped an arm around her and held her to him. They sat together and gazed down at the sleeping baby in her arms, wrapped in black silk. Zorro set a blazing fire, and they were warmed. They hardly noticed the man leave.


	26. Ignacio's Epilogue

Ignacio's Epilogue

Ignacio gazed over his land with pride, and cast his eyes back to his hacienda. Gushing Stream was watching him, he could feel her warm glance on him for miles. Marco was playing at her feet, and everything was right with the world.

He wished he had done something like this years ago. The sense of calm power and control suited him perfectly. Governing on a small scale with a wise and beautiful wife at his side was the life for him. He was getting to work alongside his workmen, and was thoroughly enjoying it.

They were repairing fences today, and tomorrow was time to go out to Monterey to buy some new stock. He was taking his wife and son with him this time, and making a holiday of it. The de la Vegas would be there as well, and while they were firm friends now, he had his doubts about the restless nature of the twins. If he hadn't known Diego's secret already, his sons may have clued Ignacio in to who their father really was. Since they were the spitting image of Diego, no other father could be possible for them.

Marco was obviously his mother's son. He had her soft brown colouring, and her hair and eyes. He was getting more active these days, and they had to keep more of an eye on him. It was good that he had a lot of space to wander in, and that the workmen had adopted him along with their employer.

Ignacio was becoming known as a very fair employer and patron. Diego had taught him well, and he had taken Diego's words completely seriously for once. They were isolated from the dons, of course, because Ignacio would never again accept an invitation to another party unless it was Diego inviting him.

Ignacio wiped some sweat from his brow, and smiled. In his office at the pueblo he had avoided hard work. Here he looked for it, because it furthered his own enterprises on the farm. Everything he worked on personally was completed faster with less expense, and that was always a good thing. He still liked his money.

"Patron," his head worker called. "We are having a break. Go and have lunch."

He waved to him, and headed towards the hacienda. He heard the gentle laughter of his men, and knew that they were shaking their heads at him with friendly amusement. He was the only landowner in the territory who actually rolled up his sleeves almost every day to join the workers. Even Diego de la Vega had other things to do. What would the pueblo be without their local hero?

Alejandro de la Vega had accepted the post turned down by his son. Armand was pleased with the idea and supported the placement with the Governor. The older man was wiser and more dedicated than even Diego would have been. Zorro was still seen from time to time, but not on a regular basis. Diego had taken over the running of his father's estates more and more. The older man did most of his work from his desk, and Zorro had kept up the training and support of the garrison. They now had some of the best men in California, although Mendoza would never be a great swordsman as the sergeant had dreamed. He had improved but the emphasis was slowly changing to that of pistols and rifles anyway. He was a much better shot than a swordsman.

He reached his wife, and swept her up into his arms. She seemed sleepy today, and he looked at her in the eyes, and she blushed a little under his gaze.

"Is there something you should tell me, princess?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure." She looked a little frightened, and he held her to his chest, caressing her hair and waiting for her to calm.

"It doesn't matter," he said softly. He was gazing at his son, who was playing with toy soldiers in the dust. He was a miracle and he was enough. He was content with one child, if that was what he was getting.

She had lost a few pregnancies over the past year, and it was starting to upset her now. He kissed the top of her head, and sighed. He hated to see her frightened or sad. He didn't know what to do for her, but the pregnancies had made her so sick it had frightened him. Perhaps it was better that they were content with their single son.

"I would like to give you a little daughter," Gushing Stream murmured, in his arms.

He knew she was thinking about Armand's daughter. Ariela was beautiful, almost like a little doll, and he adored her.

"I have Ariela to dote on, my princess. I am not going to push my luck. I am already blessed enough."

She sighed, and allowed herself to relax in his arms, melting a little so that her body nestled against his.

"Papa, will you play with me?" Marco said softly. He knelt reluctantly leaving the warm body of his wife, but pleased to be asked. He took the figure of the sergeant and looked at it as he marched it along the dirt path.

"This one looks like your Uncle Jaime," he murmured, stifling a laugh.

"He is too skinny," Marco said, taking the sergeant and looking at it carefully. "Is Uncle Jaime coming to dinner, Papa?"

"Maybe another day," Ignacio said, ruffling his son's curls as he stood up, reaching for his wife again.

"When will I get a pony?" Marco asked suddenly. It sounded as if he had thought about it for a while.

"Why do you ask that, Marco?" Gushing Stream said softly. It sounded to Ignacio that she already knew the answer.

"Ramond has a pony, and so does Carlos," Marco said. "They have ponies, why don't I?"

"They have ponies because they are bigger than you, sweet boy," she said gently. "When you are five you can have one as well," she added, glancing at Ignacio with a smile.

"They got theirs when they turned three."

Here we go, Ignacio thought.

"Their daddy takes them riding every day, Ramon can jump high fences and everything," Marco said softly.

"Their daddy has more workers than your daddy," Gushing Stream said with a patient smile. "Your daddy gets tired. Uncle Diego's daddy was like your daddy. Very busy…We have to look after daddy," she said.

"Yes, poor daddy. You must be very tired. I think you need a nap after lunch, daddy."

Ignacio glanced at Gushing Stream and smiled. "Yes, I think so. I think your daddy needs a nap after lunch, Marco," he said with an exaggerated yawn. Marco giggled, and tugged at his trousers. Ignacio knelt and gave his son a hoist onto his shoulders.

"I am so so hungry, Marco. I wonder what's for lunch?"

"Tamales!" Marco yelled with excitement, and Ignacio chuckled.

"Duck your head, my son," he cautioned as he walked into the hacienda towards the dining room.

He rushed through lunch as fast as he could, playing up the yawns and the hunger, and made his son giggle. He put the boy down to rest in his little bed in his nursery, and waited until the boy stopped wanting to jump up and down and chat, and watched him as he fell asleep. He'd had no idea how perfect his life would become with a young child who adored him. He felt like a king overseeing a kingdom, with a beautiful queen at his side.

He loved siesta. His son slept soundly in the nursery tucked inside a warm bed, and he had his wife all to himself for hours. It was impossible to work in the heat of the day, especially on the land. The only problem was Marco was unlikely to settle down until late into the night, but that was the price Ignacio paid for enjoying his wife in peace and quiet, and the workers were happy to watch his son if necessary.

He made his way into his own room, and gazed down at his beautiful wife. She reached her arms up to draw him next to her, and he felt incredibly lucky. She always welcomed him, and always matched his mood, as if she was made for him. If anything, he tired of caresses before her. These days he worked hard to pursue her needs and interests and was having a wonderful time learning more and more about his wife.

"I may be pregnant again, Ignacio," she whispered softly. He wasn't sure if he was happy about it or not. Her illnesses while pregnant were intense, but maybe this time she would be alright. He looked at her doubtfully.

"Are you happy about it, princess?"

She nodded slowly. He smiled, and held her gently. "Then so am I." He felt her sigh with relief, and he kissed the top of her head softly. "I love you so much, princess."

"We can have a girl," she murmured, as if she had absolute control over the sex of her baby. He laughed.

"How about we have both: a girl and a boy?" She giggled. "Too much? Oh well, just a girl then."


	27. Epilogue 2 : Old Men

Old Men

Ignacio was lost in thought. He sat under the tree they had planted together. It shaded the area perfectly, and he could remember her resting under the tender young branches, watching their little boy with affectionate and attentive eyes. Now it was large and a powerful entity of its own.

Marco had climbed it to the very top, and he'd had his heart in his mouth. His son had fallen a few times, but he had an indomitable spirit and he persisted. That was a long time ago. Another life time…

Sarah and Patricio had grown under the tree as well. Their lives had taken more of a conventional turn than that of his eldest. Blonde hair and blue eyes had guaranteed Sarah's beautiful features such respect, and he had been privately impressed to see his daughter blossom more into her mother's physical body structure than his side of the family. A blonde haired, blue eyed version of his dear wife had stood before him on her wedding day as she had married a wealthy don who loved her with the same intensity that he had loved Gushing Stream.

He sighed, and glancing at the details on the headstone, reaching out to touch the lettering.

"Oh, Gushing Stream, how I have survived for so long without you?" His whispered words came with a sob, but he didn't care. No one was around to hear his senile grief.

"Marco, my brother, said…I had a dream, Gushing Stream. He said I would lose you, and I would lose children…I doubted his words, but see how they have come true," he whispered.

He paused, and plucked a weed from the grave area, and sighed. California was in turmoil and many of the old families had packed up and returned to Spain. He had stayed. He loved his land, he would never leave. He would do what was required to stay, if it meant renouncing every oath he had ever made. He would call himself a Mexican if necessary. He would call himself an American if necessary. He was connected to the land, just as his eldest son was.

"Sarah died yesterday," he whispered. His golden girl was dead. He still did not quite understand. He doubted he would ever understand. "You both were too good to last too long in this dirty world," he added. Her grief stricken husband didn't even have the strange blessing of an offspring to soften the blow. Sarah had died before the child had been born, and the child had died with her.

He stared into space, and wanted to feel his wife's arms around him. He could almost imagine them sometimes, holding him, shielding him from the overwhelming despair that he almost drowned in at times. It had been years since she was with him, too many years.

"Ignacio," the deep voice startled him, but he didn't look up. He knew who stood there.

"I was wondering how you were," Ignacio murmured.

"How I was?"

"Victoria's anniversary," Ignacio continued. There was a sharp intake of breath, and he glanced around.

Diego de la Vega was leaning against the trunk of the tree, and Ignacio knew he had wounded the man with the brief comment. He shrugged and turned his eyes back to the headstone.

"You heard?"

"The tavern is buzzing with the news," Diego said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Sarah was a good girl, Diego. Soft and sweet and wise. Like her mother," Ignacio said without looking at him. He waited a moment. "I'm sorry to mention Victoria."

Diego was silent.

"It's five years today."

Ignacio nodded at the comment. He heard the sigh and nodded again.

"You must think I'm a fool," Diego murmured with a bitterness that would have surprised his wife and his father. Both were dead now.

"No, Diego. Not a fool."

Diego moved, Ignacio realised. He knew the man by now. How many years had passed for them? Countless years, and they still survived, and they still remained. Diego couldn't stand still these days, but he wasn't as strong as he had been. Reduced from a masked hero, to a drained elderly man who paced with pent up agonies.

"Felipe plans to marry and return to the hacienda soon."

"That will please you."

"It's been years," Diego murmured. "The war has been a drain on him."

"Now he can relax and tend to the horses and the cattle, just as you did."

Ignacio paused from his restless plucking at strands of grass, and turned. Diego had slid down the trunk of the tree to sit on the ground.

"Things come full circle in time, don't they?"

"I caught myself telling Carlos to marry and give me grandchildren the other day. Imagine it," Diego said.

"Ramon would have already. Remember how he was always darting around with ladies," Ignacio said with a chuckle. "He would have had to commit to someone."

Diego was quiet, and Ignacio realised he had said the wrong thing yet again. "It's been many years, Diego. Your son was full of laughter; he would not want you to remember him forever with tears."

"Ramon was a fool," Diego said with a snarl. Ignacio took it for what it was – a defence against a sob. He nodded.

"Marco is at home. He is taking over the estate for me."

"No, Ignacio. You are still young enough to run it."

"I have no interest anymore. I just want to… I don't know."

"No interest," Diego murmured. "What do we do? The world has passed us by in a whirlwind and we are irrelevant."

"You have your newspaper."

"Carlos runs it very well. Elena helps him. I am in the way if I visit the offices now."

"They would never feel that way," Ignacio said quickly. "You are a treasure to this town. You always have been."

"A town? It's gone from a pueblo in the dirt, to a Mexican town, and now, to the gold rush city," Diego murmured. "My father would be horrified at the crime rate at the moment, and I am powerless to help."

"Carlos?"

"What about him?"

"A new Zorro rides, if you've noticed?"

"No, he wouldn't…"

Ignacio glanced at him with concern. "Are you blind? He takes after you too much Diego. He wears the mask now, I know it. Talk to your son, advise him. You have the wisdom of a hero who has survived to talk about it, so talk about it."

"One man against all that? It's hopeless…"

"That's what others said when you tried it," Ignacio said softly. "Help your son. I also heard you yelling at him the other day. Telling him that he needed to stand for something in his life and stop burying his head in books. Sound familiar?"

Diego nodded. "I am a terrible father…"

"You are a father, Diego. We are all blind to all children in some ways. Be a support, and foster a culture in this town that discourages injustice – like you used to do."

"You talk as if you are not going to help me with that, Ignacio?"

"When did I ever take much interest in that town? What they did to Gushing Stream was unforgivable."

"After twenty years, most of the people involved are gone. Join me. Be a supporter, Ignacio."

Ignacio sighed, and gazed over his land. Crops swayed in the breeze, and he could hear cattle lowing in the distance. He loved this place. He tentatively cared for the people in his employ and they all lived in the town. Surely Gushing Stream would tell him to get his act together, and move to support his pueblo once more.

He could do it for a few more years, couldn't he?

"Partners, Diego?"

Diego nodded. "Partners, Alcalde."

They reached over and grasped each other's hands, and shook on the promise. The only oath that mattered.


End file.
